Eshatoh
Race:
Chaktawe- Suli
Birthday:
48th day of Winter in 495
Age:
16
Gender:
Male
Description:
Eshatoh is about 5 feet 5 inches tall and so skinny he’d appear emaciated to any outsiders to the Chaktawe. Among them, though, the amount of body fat he possesses is actually fairly average. Without the constant access to water that those in other climates enjoy, the entire Chaktawe race has almost zero body fat. That isn’t to say he’s without muscles; his muscles are just incredibly lean and stringy.
He wears his raven black hair in a long ponytail, chopped off just below his shoulders and tied with a bit of leather from a desert cow. With all the sand and grease that accumulates without washing, it’s the only efficient method to deal with it.
His face is all hard planes with no soft curves. He has a high forehead, prominent cheekbones, thin lips, and a jutting chin. His nose, crooked to begin with, has been broken and improperly set to give his entire face a skewed appearance.
Eshatoh, of course, has the naturally jet black eyes of his race along with the disproportionately long legs and unique feet. But he also possesses unusually long arms and long tapered fingers.
He wears his tribe’s traditional clothing, a collection of animal pelts sewn together with sinew and slashed up the side during the day, and at night a long hooded cloak of the same material.
Concept:
In early childhood, Eshatoh manifested a deep curiosity for all that was around him and a penchant for stubbornly holding on until something was ripped from his grasp. Among the other children he wasn’t exactly well liked, because he would too often win by his sheer stubbornness, and when he didn’t win he would often fly into an angry fury and actually strike those around him.
His parents were quick to cure him of that particular habit, but instead he often would go out alone into the desert and sulk. Naturally, many of the children grew apart from him even though they still reluctantly let him participate in their games, fearing the consequences if they did not.
When he managed to return from being left for dead in the desert is when the other children began to take notice of him to do something other avoid him. The younger children often followed him around and the older ones worked to befriend him as an act of charity in order to increase their own standing in the eyes of others. Eshatoh continued doing what he had always done until the attention died away.
It appeared to have changed him not at all, but, in fact, the attention had stroked his pride like nothing before. It ballooned his ego to a huge size and thus increased his stubborness, too.
He ended up a little bit cocky, but he didn't express it in the normal way of boasting and such. That would only shame him for offering disunity in a community that valued unity.
Instead he began taking on tasks that were, truthfully, probably too much for one his age to handle. The fact that he could almost always finish what he set out to do only made his pride and stubborness worse. Instead of telling others what he could do, he just did it.
Then, his parents died, and Eshatoh for the first time felt a little bit of insecurity. He wouldn't dare show it to anyone else, but he missed his parents, and the fact that he valued his reputation too much to actually show sorrow in front of others only made his actual sorrow worse. Slowly, it has begun creeping over into other areas of Eshatoh's life, and he has begun to push others away even more so than he did before.
History:
On the 48th day of the winter of 495 Prakne’s wife Awne bore him a son. He grew slowly in stature and wisdom as his father taught him the proper life for a Chaktawe. The boy wasn’t named, of course, for how could a person be named who hadn’t yet shown who he was. He was called, instead, Nepaupar, for his father’s guardian was Nepau.
During the first five years of his life, Nehaupar played all the usual games children of his age play: He hunted hares and kangaroo rats with toy bows, wrestled with the other children, hid in the desert vista, and learned to spot others hiding the same way. All that changed in the summer of his fourth year.
Nehaupar had found the best hiding place. An oddly shaped rock created a shelter visible only from one side settled in a dip in the sand that would have made a good hiding spot all by itself. Nobody could find him here. He was sure of it, and, as it turned out, he was right.
Chaktawe games of find the hider aren’t like the version other races play. When a Chaktawe hides, he hides well, and so, if the children playing are particularly skilled, games can last for days on end—subject only to the need of the tribe to pack up camp and leave. If the parents of the players ever decide to end the game, they can usually find their children fairly easily because of the fully developed sense in their hand.
This time, the child went to sleep and remained motionless while his parents tried to seek him out. This time, the parents couldn’t find their son. This time the Suli tribe was forced by thirst to move on without Nehaupar.
His parents had spent half the day calling for him, but the boy, in his stubbornness, refused to answer. Finally the parents were forced to leave the boy and trust his well being to Makutsi. That’s what they told themselves anyway, deep down they really believed that they had left him to die. But if a child couldn’t survive alone in the desert, the tribe would be stronger for his absence. The Chaktawe were nothing if not a practical people.
Nehaupar, meanwhile, was finally forced to give up the game several days after the tribe left. It had been a week since he had last drank any water, and his bloody cracked lips demanded he find some, now.
But when he went back to his tribe’s campsite, nobody was there. All that was left was a few bone tools, a canteen filled with water, and a backpack all in a neat pile. His parents had left them for him on the off chance that he still survived. Though he was only a child of five, Nehaupar didn’t cry. His parents had taught him better than that. Tears were nothing but a waste of water.
Instead he picked up the supplies he had been left, which included a child-sized bone bow, and set off on the trail of his tribe. He would survive this. He couldn’t let the desert win.
As it turned out, his determination paid off. Somehow, he made it back to the tribe gathered around an oasis. Other than a few light scrapes and scrapes and scratches from a chance encounter with a sand ray, Nehaupar was in as good of shape physically as when he had been left.
His father’s only reaction was a slight raising of his eyebrows, and then he intoned, “Today marks my son’s fifth birthday. Let him no longer be called by the name of my guardian, for he will someday find one of his own. My son’s name is Eshatoh, the Orphan of the Sand. Let it not be forgotten.” He spared his son a rare smile, and then life returned to normal.
Eshatoh’s father’s words proved prophetic. A few years later, both of Eshatoh’s parents were taken while retrieving water on Eypharian land. They were summarily executed.
Eshatoh mourned them for the customary three days, and then went about rebuilding his life. Such occurrences were common and only one of the many risks inhabitants of the desert had to take daily. Mourning for longer wouldn’t bring his parent’s back, so Eshatoh didn’t mourn. At least not where others could see him.
Instead, he threw himself into learning to hunt and track and survive in the desert. Where others his age only occasionally went out with the men, Eshatoh badgered his way into the hunting parties every time. Where others his age had yet to learn that time couldn’t be wasted in the desert, Eshatoh was already learning how to use time. He spent as much time with every man in the tribe as he possibly could. When one grew tired of his company and yelled at him he simply moved on to another, watching their every move and emulating them.
Only at night did his sorrow break loose, for then was the only time when Eshatoh allowed himself to be alone. Even then he didn’t allow himself to cry, but he did spend many sleepless nights staring at the top of his tent and reminiscing. Sometimes when it got particularly bad, he would sneak out of the camp cradling his father’s bone flute.
It was one of the few possessions of his father that he had kept. The rest had been left sitting where the deceased had last touched them to be slowly buried by the sand, in the Chaktawe custom. This flute, though, was one thing that Eshatoh took and kept for himself. It housed too many memories of nights spent around a campfire to be easily discarded.
Instead, he kept it and slowly taught himself to play on those nights spent alone. He poured his heart into the simple melodies he composed on the flute and let them echo across the open sand dunes, heard by nobody except himself and the gods. Sometimes he cried out to those gods, asking Eywaat for guidance. Those nights he went home feeling slightly comforted, but the sorrow always broke free anew the next night.
And so he passed his days among his people, slowly growing to be more respected as his skill at tracking and hunting became apparent. This respect became a goal of his, and he constantly pushed himself to fulfill it. Eventually he came to be idolized by all of those younger than him and not a few who were older, for he seemed to succeed at everything he put his hand to.
Skill Points
| Skill | Total Points | Attribution |
| _ | _ | _ |
| Camouflage | 10 points | (10 points racial bonus) |
| Wilderness Survival | 25 points | (25 points starting package) |
| Hunting | 10 points | (+10 sp) |
| Trapping | 7 points | (+7 sp) |
| Tracking | 3 points | (+3 sp) |
| Play Musical Instrument [Flute] | 8 points | (+5 sp; +3 Dry Eyes) |
| Storytelling | 2 points | (+2 Dry Eyes) |
Lores
Possessions
1 Animal pelt skirt (starting package)
1 Animal pelt cloak (starting package)
1 Waterskin (starting package)
1 Backpack (starting package)
1 Set of toiletries (starting package)
Food for one week (starting package)
1 Eating knife (starting package)
1 Bone flute (starting package/heirloom)
1 large tent (starting package)
1 large tarp (starting package)
100 ft. of rope (starting package)
1 flint and steel (starting package)
1 lantern (starting package)
1 bedroll (starting package)
1 blanket (starting package)
1 Animal pelt cloak (starting package)
1 Waterskin (starting package)
1 Backpack (starting package)
1 Set of toiletries (starting package)
Food for one week (starting package)
1 Eating knife (starting package)
1 Bone flute (starting package/heirloom)
1 large tent (starting package)
1 large tarp (starting package)
100 ft. of rope (starting package)
1 flint and steel (starting package)
1 lantern (starting package)
1 bedroll (starting package)
1 blanket (starting package)
Ledger
+ 100 gm (starting package)
+ 200 gm (didn't take horse)
________________________
300 gm
+ 200 gm (didn't take horse)
________________________
300 gm
Thread List
Dry Eyes
Grains of Faith (in progress)
The Patience of the Hunt [Flashback] (in progress)
Grass is Always Greener (in progress)
Grains of Faith (in progress)
The Patience of the Hunt [Flashback] (in progress)
Grass is Always Greener (in progress)
