Rise of the Magi Council
Male Human, World Walker Druid Olive skinned, black hair in a mohawk cut, hazel eyes,average height.
Born in the western lands to the Crescent Claw clan of hunter/gatherers. His maternal grandfather, Jokao, was a shaman and a respected clan elder. His mother Gandayah followed in her fathers footsteps and was training to replace him. Jogah’s father, Ohdow was a hunter and skilled tracker.
Like most couples, his parents had met at the gathering of the five clans, were twice a year the clans get together for 5 days to hold contest, trade goods and settle disputes. It was at one such gathering, when Jogah was 14, that would lead to the downfall of his family.
His father had bested Caurious, the son of a cheiftan from the largest of the clans,the Three Horns , in one of the contest. Ohdow had exposed that the hide cloak Caurious had claimed was from a rare all white buck, had actually been dyed. This allowed Ohdow, who had successfully killed a rather large saber toothed cat and brought the skull as proof, to win. This caused Caurious to be ridiculed for the rest of the gathering.
Weeks later, Jogah and his grandfather returned a from a successful 3 day fishing trip to find their village had been razed. The members of the clan, including Jogah’s mother and younger sister had apparently been barricaded into the long clan hall as it had been set aflame. He saw his father’s body tied to a stake outside, facing the hut. His throat was slashed and he wearing nothing but a white cloak.
Jokao’s initial instinct was to take Jogah to the Longtooth Clan, where Ohdow grew up. After a few days of travel, avoiding trails and areas where they might encounter Three Horns,they arrived in Longtooth territory. Fortunately for them, the first person they met was Jogah’s cousin. He informed them that the Three Horns had sent out runners that they had declared a blood hunt on the Creseant Claws. Any clan harboring a Claw could expect the full force of the Horn’s hunting party.
The cousin aided them the best he could, outfitting them with old hunting packs and any travel gear he could scavenge. Knowing they were no longer safe in Clan territory, Jokao headed east. After over a week of hiking they made it out of clan territories. Although safe from their own clans, they still had to watch out for other tribes.
Upon reaching the border towns to the east they met up with a trading caravan. Jokao offered his services as a healer and Jogah’s muscle. They traveled with the company for a few year, trading among the more civilized kingdoms of the east. Jogahs time spent guarding the merchants allowed him to observe many people and cultures. The other guards trained him to subdue would be thieves and defend the caravan from the occasional attack. His grandfather taught him nature magic at nights, communing with the creatures and elements.
When Jogah was in his seventeenth year, Jokao announced he was weary of the road. He and Widow Everly, a mystic who traveled with the caravan and read fortunes for coin, had made plans to settle down. When they passed through the village of her children and grandchildren, they would leave the caravan.
Jogah followed, but life in a small farming community paled in comparison to the ever changing scenery of the caravan. He made a living shepherding sheep, horses and cattle for Everly’s eldest son. In his off time he’d head off into the woods for hours on end. It wasn’t long before he knew ever acre of the valley the community occupied. When the winter fell and he was without work, he would disappear for days, going over the ridgeline of the valley. He would return only long enough to check on his grandfather, and sell off any extra furs he had managed to get. Jokao knew that Jogah would not be content to return to the shepherds life come spring. On one of his increasingly infrequent stops at home, Jokao told Jogah that he should follow his wanderlust and be happy. Everly’s son took care of most of their needs, and they made money on the side reading fortunes and selling remedies to the local farmers. The next day he packed up his hunting pack once more, donned his traveling gear and rugged leather guard armor and said a tearful goodbye to his grandfather.
Free to follow his feet wherever they took them, he now roams far and wide. When he needs supplies he sells off hides and pelts of the animals he killed for food and takes odd jobs. While in towns, he spends time around the traveling merchants, listening for news of interesting things to see. When he heard of giant birds in the mountains bordering Creatora, he knew he had to see them for himself. He spent days climbing the rocky crags, until he spotted one from afar. Even from high above, its shadow blocked out the sun. He noted that it frequented a specific outcropping. Swallowing his fear, he was able to work his way around and above the Roc’s perch. Jogah settled down in a spot where he could see down to the ledge but was confident he was hidden by the thick forest, and waited for it to return. When it did, he was awestruck. A golden brown bird the size of his former longhouse landed on the ledge carrying a full grown hart in one talon. The stag was baying, still alive but with its back legs paralyzed. From out of hallow in the granite, he saw a young roc emerge. Smaller than its mother, but still almost as tall as Jogah, it pounced onto the stag, using its weight and talons to finish it off. In awe at this magnificent creature and its young whelp, an idea struck Jogah. His grandfather had taught him how to commune with the spirit of an animal. The hunters of his tribe used to use it to take animal form and hunt, and to thank their prey for its sacrifice.
Jogah moved further up the mountain face where he knew he would be safe from the mother roc. He prepared a strong tea from the herbs in his traveling pack, and settled down at the base of a large tree. He concentrated on the young roc. At first the creature was confused by the outside force intruding on its mind. It snapped at the air and took flight to get away. Jogah’s mind followed right along with it as it soared above the trees. He chanted calming words to it, hoping it would understand him. It seemed to work, as the great bird began to calm down and soon began a calm circling pattern. Soon it became hard to tell his own spirit from the roc. He was young, no more than a few weeks old. It knew little more than its side of the mountain and its ledge, but yearned to see more. It saw Jogah’s memories of the various lands he had traveled and its heart beat faster. Together they rode the updrafts of the mountain until it got hungry and returned to the outcropping.
Jogah didn’t know how long they stayed like that. He awoke, sweating the next morning. Making his way back down toward the outcropping, he was filled with a mix of fear and excitement. After checking to make sure the mother roc was nowhere in sight, he slid down onto the wide ledge. He cautiously approached the dark hollow in the stone. Just as he reached the mouth of the cave, the sun went black behind him. Spinning around he was almost nose to beak with the young bird. As he stared into its saucer sized eyes it seemed to recognize him. Cautiosly, Jogah extended a hand and was able to touch the top of the birds head. At first it bristled at the touch, but quickly calmed down. When it had had enough, it pulled back its head and extended its wings. Through the lingering empathic connection, Jogah felt the great beast young mind. It expressed impatience with waiting, and wanted to see all the places Jogah had shown it first hand.
Jogah shifted the weight of his pack and started down the mountain, the roc circling overhead.