Kiankai came from the deserts across the seas. While many believe the
land is barren, his small tribe of people understood that the supposed
scarcity was caused by impatience and a lack of understanding. It was for
this reason that his tribe moved as was their custom, after staying in a
single place for a full turning of the moon. The itinerant life suited his
people, who were given to introspection and self- reliance. There was not a
facet of their lives, that was not carefully thought out and planned.
Careful planning and thought, after all, led to a longer life in the desert
called the Abyss by outsiders, but was affectionally referred to by his
people as the Mother. The name caused consternation amongst travelers,
seeking to cross its barren hills.
Why? They would ask, Do you call such a place Mother? Do you not love your
mothers here? The People would laugh, Of course we do! They would exclaim,
And like a mother, she has harsh lessons to teach us, and many gifts to
bestow, if we are but patient and accept them.
Travelers scoffed at the People, thinking them crazy. But they were not
deterred, for the People had lived in the hills of the Mother for as long as
the longest memories and stories could tell and to them, she was home.
After all, the travelers could be forgiven their oversight, for their eyes
had not been truly opened.
The Ceremony of Sight, that is where Kiankais path diverged from his people.
That time when a girl or boy, would learn what they would do for the Mother
to earn her regard and in so doing, earn their place among the People. For
some, it would be a small thing. For yet others, it would be a monumental
task that would likely kill them. Each understood that the lessons were not
for them alone, but for all the People and that it was her way of keeping
the People mindful of who they were.
Kiankai sat upon the hard stone, his body aching and tired, feet bloody.
His dark skin was burnt and peeling from the sun. He felt in pitiful shape
and did not think he would last much longer. He wondered if the Mother had
abandoned him in this place, for some past sin or deed. Thinking upon this
for a time, he disregarded this. The Mother was harsh and giving, all in
the same span, but she was rarely cruel without reason. There was a lesson
here, if he could but understand it. So Kiankai sat, legs folded and willed
himself to become one with the desert.
He awoke, his skin was bandaged, and his feet seemed to have been healed,
for he could feel his toes once more. Glancing around the small chambers,
he saw a man sitting in the corner reading what looked to be a well-loved
book. It was soon that he was told that he had been found by a group of
itinerant monks, wandering out on the Mother, seeking the People to
understand them better. The monastery was one dedicated to the works of
Myria, the Goddess of the Earth. It seemed that they believed that the
Mother and Myria were one in the same.
It was in that moment of explanation, that Kiankai had a vision so powerful,
it has led him ever since. Myria was the Mother. Her lessons were harsh,
but never without purpose and she cared for her children in a deep and
abiding way. It was from that very moment, that Kiankai began his training
A tall man, with dark skin stands before you. He has broad shoulders,
which his black hair hangs down to. Chiseled chin stands firmly out from
his face, with a broad nose and teeth that stand out in stark contrast to
his skin. A clean shaven face accentuates his features, his chin line
dominating his face. Each movement he makes is reminiscent of an animal,
smooth and graceful as a dancer. His physique is one of a man used to hard
work and toil, though he shows not a line or piece of gray in his hair, so
he may be young in age. Despite that, his eyes seem older than he is. The
dark green irises hold something of knowledge, for they seldom blink and
appear to be wary in the presence of others.