Baird & Mors Sickleclaw

Gender: Male; he/him


Age: 25 years old


Race: Lizard-Grem (Grem mother, Lizardfolk father)


Nationality: The Palugen, Marsh Flats


Appearance: From top to bottom, an unsettling sight. Twelve feet from hoof to hunch. Two beastial heads upon forked shoulders. The bent and stout chest supporting four arms of hulking flesh and a matching four-pronged scar at the center. Fur and feather - auburn and dark earth colors twisting down the torso until they reach just at the upper arms and thighs. Dark spines peak from beneath the thick, oily coverings. The bare skin of the limbs each are adorned with scars that swirl like endless fingerprints, expertly carved by knives as sharp as obsidian, only broken up by the splotches of hard green scales that grow without pattern. Visible from any angle are a pair of wings that slant towards their right side, the size of each can blot out a lengthy city street from the evening sun. The even-toed hooves of this monster capped off unguligrade legs. Another sign of his lizardfolk blood came from the raptor dewclaws hidden at the back of his calves.
    
    Looking closer, one could easily recognize the heads are that of a razorback boar and a griffon vulture, though humongous in size. The swine at the left shoulder harboring a series of deep scars that almost obscure his natural features. A pair of gnarled puncture wounds match at each side of the snout, a long gash cut through from the right nostril to the brow, and the tender marks of harsh burns reaching across both eyes. What were once shining, mud-colored orbs with blunted slits are now dull, pale and only partially functioning eyes. What betrays a sort of animalistic beauty he may still hold are the two fluffy ears that remain intact at the top corners of his head. Alongside that are the two pairs of tusks, a flatter pair on the upper-jaw that act as whetters to a sharp pair on the lower-jaw. A piece of natural ugliness may come from the mismatched teeth of a somewhat random order of flats and points. Evidence of his strange parentage.

    Opposite the boar, at the right shoulder was the vulture. The bird was clean of the marks of battle, but instead evoked a mystical nature. His downward pointing beak of cream shades and the hardened nostril cover just behind it. At each side of his head are large, swirling green vortexes positioned within the sockets where eyes would normally be. As excitement rises, a phantasmal emerald flame stoked by his hunger and passion erupts. The thin down of his neck reveal a wrinkled hide that sinks into his off-white pluming collar. A pair of bald-spots, his blushes, bear arcane brands at each side of his collar.

    At the rippling back of spines, fur, and muscle extended a glaring eel. Right above the hip did the expected plush skin of the beast turn bumpy and dappled. A leopard pattern of grays and bright yellow accents slunk across the shape of a menacing alternative to a prehensile tail. Rows of broken glass-like fangs drip with a disturbing venom from beneath the permanently glowering expression. Pectoral fins rest behind his jaws, but quickly emerge to quake at the presence of danger. This aquatic form wriggles persistently, always waiting to strike at anything that gets too close without due respect.

Personality: Baird inhabits the boar, Mors the vulture, and Blithe the eel.

    Baird is a curious and somewhat driven sort, if evidently clumsy and uncreative. He has a habit of trusting people quickly if they don't immediately, or soon after, assault him physically or verbally on sight. After interacting long enough, it can be clear that his mind is slipping under the weight of all his recent changes and hardships. He started his adventuring days as a bright and sharp sort, but has grown to somewhat resent his fated role as it already stifles his true passions.

    Mors doesn't have a lot to say on most matters. He is a fighter at heart, always famished for the fear of his enemies. Still, he strongly respects Baird's agency as the primary controller of the body. Kindness and duty also drive his thoughts, often times he assists in diplomacy or planning in order to keep Baird's head on straight. Yet a bit of arrogance tips the scales against him, especially when paired with his general lack of worldly knowledge.

    Blithe takes on the role of the faithful hound. Lacking in the capacity to speak or the concern to do so, Blithe simply watches vigilant against unexpected dangers. His instincts keep him facing wherever the other two aren't looking most of the time, and the paranoia he is ultimately possessed by can sometimes lead to confusion alongside the generally warmer attitudes of Baird and Mors.

History: This explosion of meat and bone was once something much different. Going far enough back, he wasn't a beastman at all. He was just Baird, son of Wula "The Rib-Rake" Nossul and Zi'Thok "Sloop Sleight" Sickleclaw.

     Wula was a formidable nomadic warrior of many storied battles. A brawny grem who wrestled avianbears regularly and eventually came to enjoy challenging life as a sellsword for murky business. That was in no small part due to eventually meeting Zi'Thok. He was a lucrative smuggler that cast his sails towards the most dangerous corners of Charon to acquire substances many factions would prefer to be strictly controlled.

    It started out as typical business, but the contracts started to get extensions and the partnership solidified in more ways than one. Eventually, they would commit to each other, later even conceiving a child. They knew time was short before the danger of their lifestyles would become too much to bear, for all their sakes. Playing it safe, they saved what they could for the inevitable.

    Sadly, things would take a turn. Originally they had hoped to settle for a finer location amongst the admissible Ash Lands, from which Zi'Thok's operation was based. Most other places would sooner or later lead to his crimes catching up with him. However, the child was not born with strong or hardy constitution. He was small, pink, and malformed; but living, breathing, and their very own. The atmosphere and community of their tentative home would be dangerous for the boy, so they hatched a plan together to find a new home.

    Selling off all the tools of their trades, save the trusty punch-daggers of the mother and the capable sea vessel of the father, they sailed south to reach the only other place that is both safe and unsuspecting, Marsh Flats. Once they had arrived, it became clear that living wouldn't be so easy in the swamp. The nature, however, wouldn't threaten their little one so long as they were careful. Zi'Thok made a few friends from coming here often. The flooded lands thrived with useful toxins, medicines, and unsavory folk who'd provide muscle for coin. What was most important was that they knew little about raising young. A community was necessary to help them understand what to do to care properly. So they tried Lilicors.

    That didn't last long. The people were surly and crime was abundant. Although there was a form of unity here, they weren't much of a people to go to for giving the best for a family looking to do better. Seemingly with little options left, one of the friends decided to give them a long-shot: The Palugen. They weren't welcoming to outsiders and held a very different life to any they had known, but stories of their tight-knit, reverent, and benevolent culture spoke to the wishful pair.

    They would be guided through the Hauntwoods to the Palugen's trading camp. Entreating the locals, they offered all that they could to gain acceptance. The embassy cared for none but those that had evidence of the lost fae within them, the people who separated from their ancestors long before Selina's great flood. With their only chance at the best possible upbringing for the boy, they accepted to undergo the rituals of lineage.

    Spirits were called to answer questions of what their aura may emanate, yet no rare magic was discerned. Rites were performed on samples of flesh, yet no wonder was discovered. The Storyteller plunged into their minds in search of the truth, and naught but the mundane had resided within. It was not until they touched the boy that they found something worthy. His feeble form was remarkable. Although it was nothing at the time, it indeed held the potential of absorbing the works of the Sculptors well. He was a catalyst, someone who could reward well on investment.

    The Palugen would accept the family into the village, but only when they offer a down-payment. Baird's life was not guaranteed with the state he was in. They wished to resolve this, so asked the parents to provide an amble body to use as material to greatly improve his survival. Agreeing, they returned to Lilicors with nothing to offer in exchange for what was needed. The most they could get away with was entering the fighting pits. Seeing this as a worthy cause, Wula gladly gripped her weapon and signed up. In what could be expected, she won with the crowd wrapped around her finger. Her prize, she asked, was the boar they sicced against her. Returning with the wild pig proved hard, but they reached the Palugen to make the offer. 

    The Sculptors would accept, getting to work on binding their flesh and essence into one. The results were not apparent at first, but this would forever alter his growth towards becoming akin to an eternal wereboar. His body grew stout, his legs and face elongated, and fur began to coat most of his body. It was too late to revert such a change by the time Wula or Zi'Thok noticed, but they also couldn't spit on what would ensure their child's future.

    Baird, in fact, would grow splendidly. His peers would treat him as any other kid, the adults would nurture him as a community, and his parents were granted knowledge and a place to stay to raise him as they saw fit. He'd go to the ceremonies that gave him dreams to strive for, the elders would provide stories of ancient wisdom and power, and steadily he'd be taught everything one could wish to know to survive and thrive. The family would have all that could be asked for.

    But they were not accepted for their distant relation like other orphans or members. They weren't truly of the Palugen. It was once Baird was mighty that the toll was presented. The elders did not need to demand, it was the beastman's own decision to sacrifice for what he believed. He would be allowed to venture out into the world, to live a life enriched by all that he could discover, but he would have to return often. The Sculptors would mold him into something greater at each opportunity. This strength would be repaid to the village with whatever asked. He would act as their agent, a solution to many threats from the outside as well as a scout for any of the lost fae he could encounter.

    Baird believed in this, the purpose he was enamored with for many years of his youth. However much his parents would argue against such risks, they were reminded of how lucky they should feel to have their boy grow into such a righteous and strong figure. Though tensions may rise, this is the path that Baird had chosen to walk. Only time would tell how they would each act upon the unknown future that repeatedly tests his will.