Kekoa

is just paying off his family's debts

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Kekoa Autani
Posts: 4
Joined: Fri Jun 01, 2018 12:25 am
Topics: 3
Race: Raen
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
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Fri Jun 01, 2018 1:08 am


Kekoa

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Race: Wick
Birthday: Hamis 33rd, 2697
Age: Twenty
FC: James Rolleston

Place of Origin: Muluku Islands
Current Location:Old Rose Harbor and sometimes Vienda, Anaxas
Occupation: Dockhand

Physical Description

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Kekoa has his mother's face, but his father's stature. He's sprouted up to a 6'3, with large hands already worn down by work. He's heavy where most men his size are lanky, with thick legs and arms, once softened with a layer of baby fat that has since turned to muscle. Kekoa is barrel-chested, with tawny freckled skin that has never faded, even after being away from the Islands for some time. His hair has grown fast after having it shaven down in mourning about a year ago. He usually ties it all down, only to let it free in loose, brown waves that fall against his shoulders.

His nose and lips are wide, features both parents share, but in particular, he curls his mouth in the same crooked smile his mother has.

His eyes are still wide and heavily lashed like a child's, while his brow is either furrowed in thought or left blank in contemplation. He was born with heterochromia, one brown eye and one black, there is nothing about his eyes that indicate him as more powerful or even special, just an anomaly of his own genetic makeup.

On his right bicep, are the beginnings of a tattoo, one that he was in the process of completing before he took on his family's debts. He intends to finish it.

He wears what's given to him, which is usually plain and in dull, drab colors. Everything about him is different and bland in the same breath, exotic, yet common. It's his scars that make him really stand out in a crowd. It isn't enough that he's taller than most Wicks, it isn't enough that his freckles dot against his face like lazily painted constellations. No, it's the scars on his face and neck that you'll always see first. On his neck, an angry slash had long healed over, just barely touching the bump on his throat which spared his voice.

On his face, he has a permanent smile cut from the corners of his lips to his cheekbones, even when he frowns, he's smiling. Both markings are a result of his insolence, his unwillingness to merely obey. He has learned his lesson.
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Personality

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He doesn't brag about himself anymore. He hasn't bothered to laugh the loudest, or the swim the fastest, or even work the hardest. He was sixteen when they took him, so it feels like he's aged sixteen more years.
Work is his life, now. Work and staying out of the way. Apathy rules his world, now. He could care less, he just wants to work, eat, and sleep. Why should he bother himself with anything else? He has goals to maintain, and maybe, a family to come home to.

At his core, he's still homesick. Sure, it may be betraying his position as a Wick in this society to even feel such a way, but he misses his island. He misses traveling with his old friends and family. There was a time where he thought he might die if he didn't eat his mother's cooking again (so far, he's lived).

He used to be trusting, Kekoa now views everyone as either a possible threat or a tormentor. He's been beaten into a bloody pulp for even the most minor of infractions, he keeps to himself out of safety. The only thing that hasn't changed is his heart. He's giving to a fault, being raised by a healer and a fortune teller has given him the ability to be deeply empathetic, and even charitable if allowed to. He has the potential to be a great secret keeper or even an ally, but until then, he views everyone with the strongest of scrutiny. He can't bear to look most people in the eye, either from shame or discomfort. His gaze usually averts as quick as it appears, because of this, he's been mistaken as untrustworthy.

He likes animals, and well behaved children (he's had to take care of six of them at one point), whatever's of who he once was is seen by the unjudging and the innocent.

As easy going and docile as he may seem, don't be mistaken, Kekoa is angry. He had been lied to. His family had been lied to, and now he's stuck here, working himself to the bone until he gives out. A part of himself knows that his debts will never be paid, and the thought only infuriates him more. But he let's his anger hide underneath an easy facade of a slow-moving, lumbering foreigner.

All in all, Kekoa is a complicated man. His life sad and his heart, broken. You can't blame him for desiring a better life, he only hopes that his hunch about his fate is absolutely wrong.
Backstory

He was an easy pregnancy and a quick birth, a reprieve for his mother, who had lost a baby some six years ago before trying again. The eldest, it seemed that his parents were favored by some unnamed fertility goddess and gave them six more children, which became seven in all. While they are actually Deep Water kinfolk, they were a tribe in all their own. With seven mouths to feed and a traveler's lifestyle for most of the year, his parent's hands were usually tied with gambling away their skills. Father read fortunes. Mother healed nasty cuts. It was Kekoa's job, by the time he was about in his ninth or tenth year, to wrangle in his younger sisters and brothers while they worked on their work and homestead. It wasn't unusual to see him running around with playmates and other wick children with a baby on his hip and another toddler sibling running closely behind.

Even with some responsibility, he was still a restless child, his mother taught him healing to buy herself some time between clients. A growing child needed a skill, especially as the eldest, she believed.

His childhood and pre-teen years were largely uneventful. They lived in a sleepy paradise, filled with flora, fauna, and a blue water. There was nothing more he could ever ask. Eventually, he grew a bit cocky as he got older, he nearly shot up to his dad's shoulders, who was already a bear of a man, himself, and pushed that weight around just to show exactly what he was made of.

He was fifteen when his uncle died. The man didn't live much of a virtuous life, he a braggart, with a love of gambling. He died young and fast, and pretty much abandoned everything that made him a Wick.

That's when the threats started.

His parents, in particular, his mother, since it was her brother, had begun to deal with constant harassment and vandalizing of any stall or business they had tried to prop up. Nighttime conversations that mentioned, "Bad Brothers", plagued the back of his mind.

Another year passed. His life, for the most part, was normal, but there was lingering nervousness that plagued whatever hung over his family's lives. Like the hour before a storm.

It was storming on that night, actually. Nasty, choppy waves lapped at the shores near his family's house. They all finished thatching the roof just in time, all huddled over a fire when a series of thunderous knocks crashed into their door. It was a group of men, sent by a Silas Hawke, to retrieve some back payment of whatever was owed. Apparently, his parents were also behind in paying off the debt, and had nothing else to give, only praying that they would be forgotten and left alone.

Intimidated by force, the interlopers noticed their large brood, and decided to settle if all of the children, including the youngest who was no older than six, were to be employed by them to settle their parents' accrued problem. Hine, Kekoa's mother, fell to her knees at the news.

Kekoa immediately jumped to his mother's side and begged to be taken, instead. He will repay the debts by working it off, it was the least he could do, as the eldest. This didn't ease his mother's sobs, even as he was hauled away, she was still on her knees, her husband soon joining her.

That was his last image of his family. His parents on their knees as his siblings looked on, each not daring to be the first to cry.

---

He was defiant at first. Most sixteen year olds are. Especially after being informed of being someone's property, instead of an employee. They manipulated him into signing his life away. Only then was he told the truth. Anger settled in, he was heated, throwing papers and tables over, he had to be subdued and beaten in order to slow down.

This was the first set of beatings he'd receive. He only saw Hawke once during his imprisonment and subsequent travel to Anaxas, a passing glance, but one he'd never forget.

From that day on, Kekoa would hate him.
---
They settled him in Old Rose Harbor, gave him a bed, some change of clothes, and a job. With one eye still swollen shut from the past weeks' excursions, he would haul heavy equipment and wares, and acted as a shiphand for the first several months he worked. Soon, he was moved again, this time to Vienda, to work as a farm worker for an exceedingly wealthy family that had some unspoken ties with Hawke.
Every few months to a year, he was to be rented out as extra muscle or another servant to help make the lives of those around him much more comfortable.

He tried to run, once. It was some time again, he was seventeen, and already grew some inches since he was first employed. Kekoa made a run for it, weaving through crowds and farther and farther from his handler. He was almost free, his once short, cropped hair flew behind him as he tried to run. He was so close, and at the last minute, he was caught and beaten within an inch of his life.

Dragged back to the barracks, with others who had been stuck in a similar situation, he was made into an example. Describing his horror at the end of a cold, sharp knife would be moot: he passed out in the middle of it, sure that he was going to die. When he came to, tired and ragged, all he could taste was blood.

Disfigured, with a mangled face and neck, he finally broke. He was no longer the spirited, angry boy that arrived, but a shambling, servile man.

--
Sea salt air only makes him homesick, so tries to cover the bottom half of his face when he's out and about, except everyone knows there's something wrong with him. He performs his duties as quietly as possible, that glimmer of seeing his family again has long since died. Even after hearing rumors of rumors of a movement intended for people like him, he can't make himself feel anything but some quiet contempt. When no one's looking, he lingers a bit longer at books left around about combative magic, and keeps his ears open of any news involving such a thing. He hasn't quite decided to run, but each day it becomes tempting.

He only fears that this time, he'll lose his life.
Aptitude Skills

MentalPhysicalSocial
AverageGoodPoor


Focus Skills

Combat

Combat (Unarmed): Proficient
Combat (Blades): Beginner

Magic

Magic (Spokes) Beginner

Kekoa was raised as a healer but has a deep desire to study more of the magical arts and slips quick glances into classes and workbooks when left alone.

Professional



Career and Income

Slave (Indentured)

Slave. He performs a lot of grunt work around Hawke's HQ, such as repairs, heavy lifting, and errands. He's sometimes rented out to perform similar tasks and has recently handed over to a smithy during the day to learn metalwork. Surprisingly, he rather likes it.

Income: Destitute

Took on his family's debts after the death of a family member and a contract was broken due to that family member's debts, it was passed down to his parents, but he stepped in, not wanting to endanger the safety of his younger siblings and elders. He is currently in the employment of the Bad Brothers. Who, in turn, give him a place to stay and food to eat.


Housing and Inventory

Housing

Kekoa is a slave, and as such, has no property of his own. Instead, he's posted up to live in a barracks style room of his employer's estate.

Inventory


He has a beaded necklace his youngest brother made for him some years ago. Somehow, it's still intact. He hides it under his clothes.


Goals

"Anywhere but here." The thought of leaving everything behind drums more and more within his mind each day. Wouldn't it be lovely if he could just escape? It'd be easy, after all, they'd never see him again and he'd find his own way once more. The tyat philosophy has become far more appetizing than it once was when he was raised with a more traditional lifestyle. With each year that passes, he wonders if anyone remembers him, that's why he knows he must work until the skin on his hands cracks and bleeds, and even then, that's only half of his day.

There's been whisperings of a rebellion, he keeps his ears and eyes open and wonders again: "Is there a chance for me? To run?" Even so, he's not eager to just jump at the chance now,no matter how hard he would like to, this will all have to wait.

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