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Description
Holy fucking crap, I actually drew Jarral today.

I've been struggling with this for a while actually, all my previous art has him 1: too human looking and 2: far far too young. He's 20 years old damnit! It's about time I drew him looking it.

Anyway, YES he's supposed to have a massive overbite, just you wait till I get off my arse and draw him side on, seriously, Kevali have totally screwed up jaws.

Anyway, those who watch me should know who this guy is by now, those who don't, ahh well, just enjoy the black on black with a bit more black.

Bio:

Name: Jarral Dekar -Kevali don't use family names. As children they are referred to by their birth name followed by who their mother was (Jarral Son of Sati Rama). Upon reaching adulthood, they drop this familial title and instead adopt an earned name. (In Jarral's case, Dekar, which means "Diligent" or "Accomplished".)

Age: 21

Gender: Male

Race: Kevali. A mostly subterranean, completely carnivorous, alien race from a stark and unforgiving desert world.

Appearance:

Eyes: Pale violet, almost grey, as if the colour has been drained out of them.

Hair: Waist length, Black with naturally reddish streaks.

Height: 5'5

Weight: As a strange side effect of his elemental nature, Jarral, like all Air attuned Kevali, seems to weigh around half what you would expect.

Physical description:

Jarral is, surprisingly, slightly above average height for his race (Kevali of both genders tend to stand on average around 5'3"). Despite this however, Jarral is, by his own and any other race's standards, incredibly unhealthy looking. His pale skin, fragile form and sunken,dull eyes make him look positively ghoulish.

His ashen skin is etched with swirling tattoos which run down the right side of his face and one arm forming some sort of stylised script (These are the typical tattoos of a Scribe, a symbol of his once held station and the lessons learned during his apprenticeship).
Long healed burns rake across his left cheek, three broad lines that almost look like finger marks.
His long dark hair; black but lightening at the front to a sort of rusty red; is always braided tightly, falling to waist length but often wound up under a turban.
His pale eyes slope heavily in his skull and his upper jaw juts forward into a prominent over-bite to accommodate the large upper canines.

Kevali dentition resembles that of a feline more than a human, with elongated canines and lateral incisors and very few molars.

Jarral has the usual Kevali horns (Short, 5" horns that protrude from the temple and sweep slightly backward.) and each long ear tapers into two distinct points, the first and shorter of the two being some sort of bone-like spike.

Both ears are pierced several times, decorated with a combination of earrings, fishhooks and random twisted metal (This seems to be a common practice amongst the Kevali who are otherwise, reluctant to indulge in ornamentation).

Like all Kevali, Jarral's feet are slightly digigraded, formed like a human's but twisted so all weight is rested solely on the ball of the foot. The toe bones are elongated as a result of this deformity, being almost as long as his fingers.

His knee joints; instead of having a floating kneecap as humans do; is protected by a bony protrusion of the tibia, which arches over the joint and forms a spike. A similar bone structure is formed from a protrusion of the humorous, creating a small spine just above each elbow.

Clothing:

Jarral tends toward dull neutral tones, greys, browns and black, though this isn't out of any conscious choice (see colour-blind), more, they just happen to be what he's found/been given.

Jarral's Shadow Priest vestments are, of course, almost black, his robes partly comprised of living shadow that twists and writhes around him. Beneath the open fronted robes he wears a simple tunic, practical pants, an ornately decorated sash and heavy leather boots specially designed to accommodate his race's unusual foot deformity.
His face concealed and his hair tied up into some sort of turban-like headdress, he manages to look more like some sort of desert nomad than a priest.

Around his neck, Jarral wears a large pendent, A sort of infinity symbol with stylised wings. The symbol of his God.

Personality:

Kevali are, on the whole, a pragmatic and no nonsense sort of people. Their family ties are loose at best, while pairs bond for life, children are raised in a communal fashion and seldom, if ever, interact with their actual parents

For the Kevali, concepts like euthanasia and pseudo-cannibalism are simply a part of their every day, their moral code driven fiercely by their basic need for survival. Their lives are difficult and unforgiving, and as a result, the Kevali themselves can seem somewhat humourless. They work tirelessly and have little concept of the individual. To the Kevali, the survival of the people as a whole is far more important than the needs of a single being.

Their society is built on a foundation of ancient laws which are ruthlessly enforced by the Enlightened Council of Elders, a small group of apparently immortal ancestors who claim to be gods. Those who break these laws are either put to death by exposure, or banished from the home world utterly.

That said, the Kevali have little concept of violence toward others. Greed and jealousy are not something they often encounter, in a society where nothing belongs to anyone, what is there to covet?

Distant, paranoid even, Jarral dislikes people and trusts very few. He's not keen on physical contact, (his people being fairly non-tactile in any event.) though Jarral takes this to the extreme, actually jerking away whenever anyone gets too close and freezing up whenever someone manages to pull him into a hug or some other friendly human gesture. He'll never take an offered hand, the traditional greeting of his race being a bowed head. Even so, Jarral bows as quickly as he possibly can, if at all, trying not to take his eyes off the other person for any longer than strictly necessary.

He's cold, unfriendly and has been called self-centred. His priorities extend mostly to things that benefit him and him alone (with a few exceptions.)
However, despite this inherent selfishness, Jarral IS loyal. Those small few he could conceivably consider friends are treasured and Jarral will, without thinking, fight to the death to protect them. He seems to consider an attack on his friends as an attack on himself, and Jarral does NOT forgive easily.

He never smiles, in fact, he never seems to show much emotion at all. This blunted affect can set people on edge, he doesn't laugh, he doesn't cry... He's almost managed to totally detach himself, though that doesn't mean fear doesn't still consume him from time to time.

He has trouble understanding people's motives, often misinterpreting things and viewing himself as the innocent victim even when he's not totally blameless. He honestly believes that people want to harm him, why? he can't say, he just knows they DO.

Jarral may have a sense of humour, certainly he manages to come out with some fairly sardonic remarks. But his emotionless delivery makes it impossible to tell if he's joking or not. His manner is alien, even amongst his own people, his morality questionable but always completely and totally logical.

Jarral is one unburdened by silly things like sentimentality or a concept of right and wrong. He does what has to be done, often without thinking or even comprehending that others may not see things in quite such black and white terms.

Jarral often seems somewhat distracted or distant when speaking to others, though despite this, he's always overly wary of everyone and hyper aware of his surroundings.
He isn't comfortable in large groups, often withdrawing completely if things get too crowded.

He has a habit of lurking in the darkness, listening and observing but seldom interacting if he can help it. He's slow to action most of the time unless directly threatened or provoked. He knows he can't fight well and tries to avoid conflict, not that it works. The shadows have however given him some level of renewed confidence around others, though his trust issues will likely never be resolved.

Jarral rambles about things that no one else seems to quite be able to make sense of and his tendency to speak in circles can make getting information out of him frustrating. Jarral quite often simply won't volunteer information and will only answer what he's directly asked which makes speaking to him nothing short of a chore.

Manner of speaking/accent: Jarral speaks clearly and precisely (albeit with little to no inflection) with a strange slightly Arabic sounding accent. He doesn't use slang or contractions, his English particularly is absolutely, unnaturally perfect.

Skills and talents:

Linguistics (Jarral is a natural linguist, he has an uncanny knack of just picking up languages with seemingly minimal effort, though he's not as good with colloquialisms which simply bewilder him. He claims his talent with languages is due to an understanding of the common root.)

Reading/writing (given his race are mostly illiterate, this is unusual. He was trained as a scribe and thus taught to read and write… though Fate also played a role, ensuring the path it's chosen would take by augmenting his mind slightly. Language is one of the few things that comes naturally to Jarral. One of Fate's most subtle gifts.)

Racial abilities:

Night vision (His race are nocturnal, though keen night vision comes at a cost. (see Disadvantages: Photosensitive below))

Keen hearing (Jarral's hearing is naturally very sharp, his sight slightly less so. He has a fairly average sense of smell, if not slightly dulled compared to a normal human)

Slightly more resilient to temperature change than humans

Elemental affinity – Air (Jarral has, like all his race, two souls. A mortal and elemental spirit entwined as one. This elemental spirit grants Jarral incredible abilities but also leads to him being a little too fixated on heights, wind and lightning. He can completely zone out during a storm as the elemental half of his soul takes over for a time. With his ascension to Proxy status, his elemental abilities have become shadow tainted, corrupted even.)

Slowed metabolism (He eats seldom but gorges himself when he does eat)

Other special abilities (non racial):

Immunity - Poison/toxin (Anything his body deems a toxin is rejected, which unfortunately means a lot of pain killers and other such drugs have little to no effect on him)

Umbramancy (Jarral can command shadows but not control them. While he can ask them to do something, he can't force them to do so. Unfortunately, while command works fairly well with lesser shadows without much in the way of sentience, Jarral lacks the charisma or leadership to really have much sway over the higher level shades. They protect him because their God told them to, but that doesn't mean they have to blindly obey Jarral's every whim.)

Move through shadows (Jarral can slip through the shadows, essentially teleporting anywhere shadows are cast)

Communicate with shadows (the shadows tell him things, he can speak with them in their own language… a strange tongue with no real substance)

Disadvantages:

Colour-blind (Good night vision comes at a cost, Jarral sees the world literally in shades of grey)

Photosensitive (The Kevali are adapted to a nocturnal lifestyle, as a result, their eyes have trouble adapting to harsh light and being out in sunlight can be quite painful.)

Mild Haemophilia (His blood doesn't clot very efficiently but it does clot... eventually. Unlike most other shadow priests, Jarral cannot access their healing abilities. The reason for this is unclear. Perhaps he simply lacks the mental state to summon positive energy, no happiness or pleasure, no positive emotions to give him some purpose beyond his station. Or perhaps it's because his very nature is so shifted toward the darker, negative side of the spectrum that the light is just out of his grasp. Whatever the reason, Jarral cannot heal magically and he's well aware of that limitation. He tries to avoid getting into physical conflict with others.)

Lactose/gluten intolerance - Jarral like all Kevali, is carnivorous. While he can stomach small amounts of plant matter (mostly for roughage) he can't really digest it.

History:

The circumstances surrounding Jarral's conception and birth were not cause for celebration or joy.
His mother, Sati Rama, had lost her partner and seeking solace, she turned to the one who had brought her the news for comfort. Perhaps she truly knew who the man was but it's likely she didn't care. When morning came she left her lover; she'd got what she wanted from him, and he returned to his duties never knowing that he was to be a father.
Sati sincerely believed that this child would fill the void in her life the death of her partner had brought, but as time went by the child she carried only served to remind her of her infidelity.
Jarral was born at dawn (Significant only because culturally dawn is associated with omens, a border between life (night) and death (day)), a sickly little infant who few expected to live.

His mother tried to bond with her newborn son but to no avail. She began to believe that the boy's illness was the god's judgement upon her, a punishment for her actions.
As soon as the child was old enough to be weaned (at around four weeks old) she disappeared.
Jarral was always told she’d chosen to face the rising of the suns, joining her beloved in death.

The infant Jarral never thrived, but he struggled on, nursed by the community who, despite their harsh regard for life, view children as valuable. Soon enough Jarral was deemed fit enough to be placed into the care of the communal crèche with all the other children.

Jarral grew up an inquisitive and thoughtful young child, absorbing knowledge ravenously, eager to learn and keen to please. He was, as all Kevali children, polite, respectful and quiet, though there was always something slightly off about him.
It wasn't just his frailty, or his obvious intellect. He was, as the seers put it, entwined in threads of fate. He was going to be important, but none could yet see just how or why.
At six years old, like the other youngsters, Jarral was put to work running various errands. It was hard work, especially for a child, but such was the culture, everyone regardless of age pulled his or her weight. Jarral was small for his age, weaker than his peers, but he put his all into his work, cleaning, hauling equipment and learning to fish like everyone else.

Aged 10:

Soon enough Jarral’s innate talents became known. Caught reading a ledger when he should have been working, he would have been punished if not for one curious fact; He appeared to be able to understand the writing. When asked by the Scribes who caught him, why he wasn’t working he eventually, after many apologies, explained that the item had fascinated him and he had felt compelled to take a closer look. Not believing that the child could possibly be able to comprehend a language the Scribes themselves spent years studying, he was, of course, asked to read aloud. After detailing several paragraphs detailing trade agreements, the young boy was dragged before his Lord and the High Council of Elders.

”My Lord, this child should NOT be able to read." The white haired Elder protested, the rest of the council nodding and murmuring their agreement.
”And yet, here he is. Surely that should tell you something?" The tall half-breed studied the child before him critically. "Tell me, what is your name?”
The youngster looked uncertain, wide eyed in the presence of his Lord. "I... I am Jarral, son of Sati Rama..." He managed, his voice trembling.
The older man nodded, his tone gentle. "I knew your mother, her death... came as quite a shock.
The boy bowed his head, his tone flat. "She sought to join my father in oblivion, it was her choice to make.”
The tall man's expression faltered. "Indeed. "

One of the Council coughed, urging a conclusion to these proceedings. Their Lord nodded once more and continued.
“Jarral, Son of Sati Rama, you have proven yourself to be rather talented in linguistics. You understand the ancient tongue yet claim to have never been taught it. How can this be?”
The boy frowned. "It.. I do not know My Lord. I simply understand, the words... they are familiar to me.”

The council members shuffled in their seats and the half-breed addressed them at last.
”We cannot ignore this child's talents. If what he says is true, Fate has blessed him with a remarkable talent. We should embrace this. I move that he should be apprenticed as a Scribe immediately.”
“But My Lord! He is only a child!"
“Yet he understands the ancient tongue, he can read!”
“We cannot ignore Fate's part in this. She must have plans for the boy.”

Jarral listened to the argument around him, head lowered, just wishing it would all go away and he could go back to his normal duties.

At length the Council seemed to come to some agreement and they stood. The silver haired female who the child knew to be Akantarak, Mistress of twilight and bringer of life, spoke.
“Jarral, Son of Sati Rama, the Enlightened Council of Elders has come to a decision.
He held his breath, unsure what to hope for.
“You will be apprenticed as a Scribe and will serve the people in such a capacity until your death.”
It was the standard deal with all students, once you joined a profession death or banishment was the only escape. Jarral nodded, there was no sense arguing. His childhood was over, he couldn't say he'd miss it.

Aged 14:

Jarral remained a faithful servant to his Lord for many years, translating ancient tablets and acting as one of the few Historian Scribes. Despite his rank however, his Lord seemed to feel compelled to keep the boy close. Jarral never questioned this, assisting the chief Scribe Kaliyani Vivek in her own work.

As Fate would have it, when their Lord fell ill, it was Jarral who happened upon him and rushed to his side. The fevered man asked only one thing of his Scribe: “Find my Brother.”
Jarral didn’t need to be told twice and, shaping space around himself (An act he found more exhausting than most of his race.) he hurried to find his Lord’s outcast twin.
Upon tracking the man down, it didn’t take much to convince Jarral that the best course of action would be to return to the underground city with both his Lord’s brother and one who claimed he could save his Lord’s life. Unfortunately for Jarral, strict laws regarding outcasts forbid their return.

While his Lord’s life was saved, an example had to be made. Jarral awaited his punishment with a heavy heart.

The young boy raised his head as the other Scribe entered, averting his gaze as he realised why she'd come.
I was looking for you.
”Then you heard?" It took all his will to keep his voice from shaking.
The young woman smiled gently, a sad mixture of pity and understanding. "You did what you thought was right." She settled beside him.
”I know." He lowered his head, his voice faltering. That didn't make it any easier to bear. "But I should have considered alternative options.”
”Would you have done things differently?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. "No... I do not believe so.”
”Then why punish yourself like this? You saved our Lord's life.”
The boy frowned. "I am scared..." He managed, ashamed to admit it.
The female Scribe paused a moment before reaching out a hand to him. "Our Lord will plead your case. He owes you that at least.”
”I fear it will not be enough." He sounded defeated, ignoring the offered hand.
”Have faith Jarral Dekar, and no matter what, remember that you are a hero”.
”Then why do I not feel it?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Things will seem better once you rest.”
”I cannot sleep." He was exhausted, but his thoughts were far too muddled to allow any peace. "Tomorrow I face the Council... and... " He choked back a sob. "I am not certain it is right for me to protest their judgement."
”Jarral Dekar, you did what was RIGHT”
”I broke tribal law and I did so willingly. I understood the consequences of my actions and the truth is, I did not care. Our Lord's life was more important, IS more important than my own... " He was certain of this, but that didn't ease the fear he now had for his own life. ”The Elders will see, they must see.”
He shook his head. "They must maintain the laws, an exception cannot be made. " He shivered. "And yet, despite knowing this... I cannot yet make peace with myself. I... I do not wish to die.”
The female lowered her head, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes.
”May Fate smile on you Jarral Dekar..." She managed, standing. "I will leave you to your preparations."
He nodded and bowed his head politely. "My thanks Kaliyani Vivek, peace be with you."
She forced a smile, bowing her head in return and left, her heart heavy with dread.
May the gods be merciful..." She murmured.

Days later:

“I will continue to fight your case, but till the Elders see sense, my Brother will keep you safe."
Jarral bowed his head, biting back the emotion that welled within him as his Lord spoke. Nodding, he managed to force the words out. "My Lord, I thank you for your compassion.”
”I owe you my life Jarral Dekar." The older man smiled softly, sadness writ across his dark features. "I only wish I could have done more to spare you this punishment.”
Jarral said nothing, what more could he say? He was outcast, banished from everything and everyone he'd ever known. He felt empty, lost and absolutely terrified.

As the years passed, Jarral learned painful lessons about the world he’d been thrown into. The appeal his Lord had promised never came, and as Jarral grew older, his caregiver’s responsibilities shifted to his own young family. Jarral sought guidance and moved from mentor to mentor in his quest to find somewhere he felt he could belong. Those he met seldom treated him well, though his alien attitude hardly made him the easiest student to deal with. Twisted and driven to the edge of reason by one mentor, regarded with hostility and violence most everywhere he went, it didn’t take long to completely shatter the young boy’s trust in others. Some tried to take him in and rehabilitate him, but their attempts met with resistance and resentment. Jarral hated this world and no amount of time could acclimatise him to the foreign culture and mannerisms of the “savages” who surrounded him.
Naturally, it didn’t take long before those few who wanted to help simply gave up trying. Jarral has never been able to accept that he drove them away.

Aged 19:

Jarral began to take less and less of an interest in people, becoming ever more reclusive. He began lurking in the darkness and watching the world around him, safe and secure, unseen by those who he believed would hurt and betray him.
But the darkness watched back and soon the boy found himself haunted by the shadows, Unable to sleep without waking in some strange nightmare world and not wishing to be awake for the whispering calling in the walls and the shadows that slowly covered all.
Most presumed the boy's raving was insanity, that he'd finally snapped and gone off the deep end.
He could hear them, the voices in the walls. It wasn't just white noise, he'd come to understand what they were saying. The Shadows wanted him.
Covering his ears he screamed "Leave me alone! Just leave me alone!" but the darkness only deepened, creeping ever closer.
Somebody must have heard him, someone would come to save him... right? Surely they wouldn't let him be taken! He screamed again, this time for help, for any who may hear him. The inky blackness was all around him now, pooling around his feet. He felt the cold nothingness creep across him and then the ground fell from beneath him, plunging him into the murky shade.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he began to notice ill formed shapes moving around him; beings without substance, speaking a language equally as insubstantial. For the first time in months, he let his fear subside and truely listened. In that instant, he understood: The Shadows meant him no harm, this was his destiny. As they explained, he nodded and stood, following the creatures across the sparse, dim landscape.
“So what now?" He asked of the largest and most talkative of the group.
”Now?" It replied. "Now, you lead."

And so Jarral came to know his purpose, the reason for which he was born. He was a gift from one god to another, to act as emissary for the newly ascended God of Shadows, Secrecy and Knowledge.

Jarral speaks for the shadows themselves, watching with only dim interest as other outcasts find their way into the protection of his new Lord. As their own society develops, Jarral has been drafted into the High Council as the completely impartial voice of cool logic. He has no ulterior motives, no vested interests or indeed much care at all for what happens to the other outcasts. With no real feeling for those around him, Jarral’s decisions are based purely on what has to be done to achieve the outcome he’s been tasked with. While this could make him a ruthless leader, it also makes him a perfect counter to the other members of the Council, all of whom have their own agenda.

Description
Holy fucking crap, I actually drew Jarral today.

I've been struggling with this for a while actually, all my previous art has him 1: too human looking and 2: far far too young. He's 20 years old damnit! It's about time I drew him looking it.

Anyway, YES he's supposed to have a massive overbite, just you wait till I get off my arse and draw him side on, seriously, Kevali have totally screwed up jaws.

Anyway, those who watch me should know who this guy is by now, those who don't, ahh well, just enjoy the black on black with a bit more black.

Bio:

Name: Jarral Dekar -Kevali don't use family names. As children they are referred to by their birth name followed by who their mother was (Jarral Son of Sati Rama). Upon reaching adulthood, they drop this familial title and instead adopt an earned name. (In Jarral's case, Dekar, which means "Diligent" or "Accomplished".)

Age: 21

Gender: Male

Race: Kevali. A mostly subterranean, completely carnivorous, alien race from a stark and unforgiving desert world.

Appearance:

Eyes: Pale violet, almost grey, as if the colour has been drained out of them.

Hair: Waist length, Black with naturally reddish streaks.

Height: 5'5

Weight: As a strange side effect of his elemental nature, Jarral, like all Air attuned Kevali, seems to weigh around half what you would expect.

Physical description:

Jarral is, surprisingly, slightly above average height for his race (Kevali of both genders tend to stand on average around 5'3"). Despite this however, Jarral is, by his own and any other race's standards, incredibly unhealthy looking. His pale skin, fragile form and sunken,dull eyes make him look positively ghoulish.

His ashen skin is etched with swirling tattoos which run down the right side of his face and one arm forming some sort of stylised script (These are the typical tattoos of a Scribe, a symbol of his once held station and the lessons learned during his apprenticeship).
Long healed burns rake across his left cheek, three broad lines that almost look like finger marks.
His long dark hair; black but lightening at the front to a sort of rusty red; is always braided tightly, falling to waist length but often wound up under a turban.
His pale eyes slope heavily in his skull and his upper jaw juts forward into a prominent over-bite to accommodate the large upper canines.

Kevali dentition resembles that of a feline more than a human, with elongated canines and lateral incisors and very few molars.

Jarral has the usual Kevali horns (Short, 5" horns that protrude from the temple and sweep slightly backward.) and each long ear tapers into two distinct points, the first and shorter of the two being some sort of bone-like spike.

Both ears are pierced several times, decorated with a combination of earrings, fishhooks and random twisted metal (This seems to be a common practice amongst the Kevali who are otherwise, reluctant to indulge in ornamentation).

Like all Kevali, Jarral's feet are slightly digigraded, formed like a human's but twisted so all weight is rested solely on the ball of the foot. The toe bones are elongated as a result of this deformity, being almost as long as his fingers.

His knee joints; instead of having a floating kneecap as humans do; is protected by a bony protrusion of the tibia, which arches over the joint and forms a spike. A similar bone structure is formed from a protrusion of the humorous, creating a small spine just above each elbow.

Clothing:

Jarral tends toward dull neutral tones, greys, browns and black, though this isn't out of any conscious choice (see colour-blind), more, they just happen to be what he's found/been given.

Jarral's Shadow Priest vestments are, of course, almost black, his robes partly comprised of living shadow that twists and writhes around him. Beneath the open fronted robes he wears a simple tunic, practical pants, an ornately decorated sash and heavy leather boots specially designed to accommodate his race's unusual foot deformity.
His face concealed and his hair tied up into some sort of turban-like headdress, he manages to look more like some sort of desert nomad than a priest.

Around his neck, Jarral wears a large pendent, A sort of infinity symbol with stylised wings. The symbol of his God.

Personality:

Kevali are, on the whole, a pragmatic and no nonsense sort of people. Their family ties are loose at best, while pairs bond for life, children are raised in a communal fashion and seldom, if ever, interact with their actual parents

For the Kevali, concepts like euthanasia and pseudo-cannibalism are simply a part of their every day, their moral code driven fiercely by their basic need for survival. Their lives are difficult and unforgiving, and as a result, the Kevali themselves can seem somewhat humourless. They work tirelessly and have little concept of the individual. To the Kevali, the survival of the people as a whole is far more important than the needs of a single being.

Their society is built on a foundation of ancient laws which are ruthlessly enforced by the Enlightened Council of Elders, a small group of apparently immortal ancestors who claim to be gods. Those who break these laws are either put to death by exposure, or banished from the home world utterly.

That said, the Kevali have little concept of violence toward others. Greed and jealousy are not something they often encounter, in a society where nothing belongs to anyone, what is there to covet?

Distant, paranoid even, Jarral dislikes people and trusts very few. He's not keen on physical contact, (his people being fairly non-tactile in any event.) though Jarral takes this to the extreme, actually jerking away whenever anyone gets too close and freezing up whenever someone manages to pull him into a hug or some other friendly human gesture. He'll never take an offered hand, the traditional greeting of his race being a bowed head. Even so, Jarral bows as quickly as he possibly can, if at all, trying not to take his eyes off the other person for any longer than strictly necessary.

He's cold, unfriendly and has been called self-centred. His priorities extend mostly to things that benefit him and him alone (with a few exceptions.)
However, despite this inherent selfishness, Jarral IS loyal. Those small few he could conceivably consider friends are treasured and Jarral will, without thinking, fight to the death to protect them. He seems to consider an attack on his friends as an attack on himself, and Jarral does NOT forgive easily.

He never smiles, in fact, he never seems to show much emotion at all. This blunted affect can set people on edge, he doesn't laugh, he doesn't cry... He's almost managed to totally detach himself, though that doesn't mean fear doesn't still consume him from time to time.

He has trouble understanding people's motives, often misinterpreting things and viewing himself as the innocent victim even when he's not totally blameless. He honestly believes that people want to harm him, why? he can't say, he just knows they DO.

Jarral may have a sense of humour, certainly he manages to come out with some fairly sardonic remarks. But his emotionless delivery makes it impossible to tell if he's joking or not. His manner is alien, even amongst his own people, his morality questionable but always completely and totally logical.

Jarral is one unburdened by silly things like sentimentality or a concept of right and wrong. He does what has to be done, often without thinking or even comprehending that others may not see things in quite such black and white terms.

Jarral often seems somewhat distracted or distant when speaking to others, though despite this, he's always overly wary of everyone and hyper aware of his surroundings.
He isn't comfortable in large groups, often withdrawing completely if things get too crowded.

He has a habit of lurking in the darkness, listening and observing but seldom interacting if he can help it. He's slow to action most of the time unless directly threatened or provoked. He knows he can't fight well and tries to avoid conflict, not that it works. The shadows have however given him some level of renewed confidence around others, though his trust issues will likely never be resolved.

Jarral rambles about things that no one else seems to quite be able to make sense of and his tendency to speak in circles can make getting information out of him frustrating. Jarral quite often simply won't volunteer information and will only answer what he's directly asked which makes speaking to him nothing short of a chore.

Manner of speaking/accent: Jarral speaks clearly and precisely (albeit with little to no inflection) with a strange slightly Arabic sounding accent. He doesn't use slang or contractions, his English particularly is absolutely, unnaturally perfect.

Skills and talents:

Linguistics (Jarral is a natural linguist, he has an uncanny knack of just picking up languages with seemingly minimal effort, though he's not as good with colloquialisms which simply bewilder him. He claims his talent with languages is due to an understanding of the common root.)

Reading/writing (given his race are mostly illiterate, this is unusual. He was trained as a scribe and thus taught to read and write… though Fate also played a role, ensuring the path it's chosen would take by augmenting his mind slightly. Language is one of the few things that comes naturally to Jarral. One of Fate's most subtle gifts.)

Racial abilities:

Night vision (His race are nocturnal, though keen night vision comes at a cost. (see Disadvantages: Photosensitive below))

Keen hearing (Jarral's hearing is naturally very sharp, his sight slightly less so. He has a fairly average sense of smell, if not slightly dulled compared to a normal human)

Slightly more resilient to temperature change than humans

Elemental affinity – Air (Jarral has, like all his race, two souls. A mortal and elemental spirit entwined as one. This elemental spirit grants Jarral incredible abilities but also leads to him being a little too fixated on heights, wind and lightning. He can completely zone out during a storm as the elemental half of his soul takes over for a time. With his ascension to Proxy status, his elemental abilities have become shadow tainted, corrupted even.)

Slowed metabolism (He eats seldom but gorges himself when he does eat)

Other special abilities (non racial):

Immunity - Poison/toxin (Anything his body deems a toxin is rejected, which unfortunately means a lot of pain killers and other such drugs have little to no effect on him)

Umbramancy (Jarral can command shadows but not control them. While he can ask them to do something, he can't force them to do so. Unfortunately, while command works fairly well with lesser shadows without much in the way of sentience, Jarral lacks the charisma or leadership to really have much sway over the higher level shades. They protect him because their God told them to, but that doesn't mean they have to blindly obey Jarral's every whim.)

Move through shadows (Jarral can slip through the shadows, essentially teleporting anywhere shadows are cast)

Communicate with shadows (the shadows tell him things, he can speak with them in their own language… a strange tongue with no real substance)

Disadvantages:

Colour-blind (Good night vision comes at a cost, Jarral sees the world literally in shades of grey)

Photosensitive (The Kevali are adapted to a nocturnal lifestyle, as a result, their eyes have trouble adapting to harsh light and being out in sunlight can be quite painful.)

Mild Haemophilia (His blood doesn't clot very efficiently but it does clot... eventually. Unlike most other shadow priests, Jarral cannot access their healing abilities. The reason for this is unclear. Perhaps he simply lacks the mental state to summon positive energy, no happiness or pleasure, no positive emotions to give him some purpose beyond his station. Or perhaps it's because his very nature is so shifted toward the darker, negative side of the spectrum that the light is just out of his grasp. Whatever the reason, Jarral cannot heal magically and he's well aware of that limitation. He tries to avoid getting into physical conflict with others.)

Lactose/gluten intolerance - Jarral like all Kevali, is carnivorous. While he can stomach small amounts of plant matter (mostly for roughage) he can't really digest it.

History:

The circumstances surrounding Jarral's conception and birth were not cause for celebration or joy.
His mother, Sati Rama, had lost her partner and seeking solace, she turned to the one who had brought her the news for comfort. Perhaps she truly knew who the man was but it's likely she didn't care. When morning came she left her lover; she'd got what she wanted from him, and he returned to his duties never knowing that he was to be a father.
Sati sincerely believed that this child would fill the void in her life the death of her partner had brought, but as time went by the child she carried only served to remind her of her infidelity.
Jarral was born at dawn (Significant only because culturally dawn is associated with omens, a border between life (night) and death (day)), a sickly little infant who few expected to live.

His mother tried to bond with her newborn son but to no avail. She began to believe that the boy's illness was the god's judgement upon her, a punishment for her actions.
As soon as the child was old enough to be weaned (at around four weeks old) she disappeared.
Jarral was always told she’d chosen to face the rising of the suns, joining her beloved in death.

The infant Jarral never thrived, but he struggled on, nursed by the community who, despite their harsh regard for life, view children as valuable. Soon enough Jarral was deemed fit enough to be placed into the care of the communal crèche with all the other children.

Jarral grew up an inquisitive and thoughtful young child, absorbing knowledge ravenously, eager to learn and keen to please. He was, as all Kevali children, polite, respectful and quiet, though there was always something slightly off about him.
It wasn't just his frailty, or his obvious intellect. He was, as the seers put it, entwined in threads of fate. He was going to be important, but none could yet see just how or why.
At six years old, like the other youngsters, Jarral was put to work running various errands. It was hard work, especially for a child, but such was the culture, everyone regardless of age pulled his or her weight. Jarral was small for his age, weaker than his peers, but he put his all into his work, cleaning, hauling equipment and learning to fish like everyone else.

Aged 10:

Soon enough Jarral’s innate talents became known. Caught reading a ledger when he should have been working, he would have been punished if not for one curious fact; He appeared to be able to understand the writing. When asked by the Scribes who caught him, why he wasn’t working he eventually, after many apologies, explained that the item had fascinated him and he had felt compelled to take a closer look. Not believing that the child could possibly be able to comprehend a language the Scribes themselves spent years studying, he was, of course, asked to read aloud. After detailing several paragraphs detailing trade agreements, the young boy was dragged before his Lord and the High Council of Elders.

”My Lord, this child should NOT be able to read." The white haired Elder protested, the rest of the council nodding and murmuring their agreement.
”And yet, here he is. Surely that should tell you something?" The tall half-breed studied the child before him critically. "Tell me, what is your name?”
The youngster looked uncertain, wide eyed in the presence of his Lord. "I... I am Jarral, son of Sati Rama..." He managed, his voice trembling.
The older man nodded, his tone gentle. "I knew your mother, her death... came as quite a shock.
The boy bowed his head, his tone flat. "She sought to join my father in oblivion, it was her choice to make.”
The tall man's expression faltered. "Indeed. "

One of the Council coughed, urging a conclusion to these proceedings. Their Lord nodded once more and continued.
“Jarral, Son of Sati Rama, you have proven yourself to be rather talented in linguistics. You understand the ancient tongue yet claim to have never been taught it. How can this be?”
The boy frowned. "It.. I do not know My Lord. I simply understand, the words... they are familiar to me.”

The council members shuffled in their seats and the half-breed addressed them at last.
”We cannot ignore this child's talents. If what he says is true, Fate has blessed him with a remarkable talent. We should embrace this. I move that he should be apprenticed as a Scribe immediately.”
“But My Lord! He is only a child!"
“Yet he understands the ancient tongue, he can read!”
“We cannot ignore Fate's part in this. She must have plans for the boy.”

Jarral listened to the argument around him, head lowered, just wishing it would all go away and he could go back to his normal duties.

At length the Council seemed to come to some agreement and they stood. The silver haired female who the child knew to be Akantarak, Mistress of twilight and bringer of life, spoke.
“Jarral, Son of Sati Rama, the Enlightened Council of Elders has come to a decision.
He held his breath, unsure what to hope for.
“You will be apprenticed as a Scribe and will serve the people in such a capacity until your death.”
It was the standard deal with all students, once you joined a profession death or banishment was the only escape. Jarral nodded, there was no sense arguing. His childhood was over, he couldn't say he'd miss it.

Aged 14:

Jarral remained a faithful servant to his Lord for many years, translating ancient tablets and acting as one of the few Historian Scribes. Despite his rank however, his Lord seemed to feel compelled to keep the boy close. Jarral never questioned this, assisting the chief Scribe Kaliyani Vivek in her own work.

As Fate would have it, when their Lord fell ill, it was Jarral who happened upon him and rushed to his side. The fevered man asked only one thing of his Scribe: “Find my Brother.”
Jarral didn’t need to be told twice and, shaping space around himself (An act he found more exhausting than most of his race.) he hurried to find his Lord’s outcast twin.
Upon tracking the man down, it didn’t take much to convince Jarral that the best course of action would be to return to the underground city with both his Lord’s brother and one who claimed he could save his Lord’s life. Unfortunately for Jarral, strict laws regarding outcasts forbid their return.

While his Lord’s life was saved, an example had to be made. Jarral awaited his punishment with a heavy heart.

The young boy raised his head as the other Scribe entered, averting his gaze as he realised why she'd come.
I was looking for you.
”Then you heard?" It took all his will to keep his voice from shaking.
The young woman smiled gently, a sad mixture of pity and understanding. "You did what you thought was right." She settled beside him.
”I know." He lowered his head, his voice faltering. That didn't make it any easier to bear. "But I should have considered alternative options.”
”Would you have done things differently?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. "No... I do not believe so.”
”Then why punish yourself like this? You saved our Lord's life.”
The boy frowned. "I am scared..." He managed, ashamed to admit it.
The female Scribe paused a moment before reaching out a hand to him. "Our Lord will plead your case. He owes you that at least.”
”I fear it will not be enough." He sounded defeated, ignoring the offered hand.
”Have faith Jarral Dekar, and no matter what, remember that you are a hero”.
”Then why do I not feel it?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Things will seem better once you rest.”
”I cannot sleep." He was exhausted, but his thoughts were far too muddled to allow any peace. "Tomorrow I face the Council... and... " He choked back a sob. "I am not certain it is right for me to protest their judgement."
”Jarral Dekar, you did what was RIGHT”
”I broke tribal law and I did so willingly. I understood the consequences of my actions and the truth is, I did not care. Our Lord's life was more important, IS more important than my own... " He was certain of this, but that didn't ease the fear he now had for his own life. ”The Elders will see, they must see.”
He shook his head. "They must maintain the laws, an exception cannot be made. " He shivered. "And yet, despite knowing this... I cannot yet make peace with myself. I... I do not wish to die.”
The female lowered her head, fighting back the tears that stung her eyes.
”May Fate smile on you Jarral Dekar..." She managed, standing. "I will leave you to your preparations."
He nodded and bowed his head politely. "My thanks Kaliyani Vivek, peace be with you."
She forced a smile, bowing her head in return and left, her heart heavy with dread.
May the gods be merciful..." She murmured.

Days later:

“I will continue to fight your case, but till the Elders see sense, my Brother will keep you safe."
Jarral bowed his head, biting back the emotion that welled within him as his Lord spoke. Nodding, he managed to force the words out. "My Lord, I thank you for your compassion.”
”I owe you my life Jarral Dekar." The older man smiled softly, sadness writ across his dark features. "I only wish I could have done more to spare you this punishment.”
Jarral said nothing, what more could he say? He was outcast, banished from everything and everyone he'd ever known. He felt empty, lost and absolutely terrified.

As the years passed, Jarral learned painful lessons about the world he’d been thrown into. The appeal his Lord had promised never came, and as Jarral grew older, his caregiver’s responsibilities shifted to his own young family. Jarral sought guidance and moved from mentor to mentor in his quest to find somewhere he felt he could belong. Those he met seldom treated him well, though his alien attitude hardly made him the easiest student to deal with. Twisted and driven to the edge of reason by one mentor, regarded with hostility and violence most everywhere he went, it didn’t take long to completely shatter the young boy’s trust in others. Some tried to take him in and rehabilitate him, but their attempts met with resistance and resentment. Jarral hated this world and no amount of time could acclimatise him to the foreign culture and mannerisms of the “savages” who surrounded him.
Naturally, it didn’t take long before those few who wanted to help simply gave up trying. Jarral has never been able to accept that he drove them away.

Aged 19:

Jarral began to take less and less of an interest in people, becoming ever more reclusive. He began lurking in the darkness and watching the world around him, safe and secure, unseen by those who he believed would hurt and betray him.
But the darkness watched back and soon the boy found himself haunted by the shadows, Unable to sleep without waking in some strange nightmare world and not wishing to be awake for the whispering calling in the walls and the shadows that slowly covered all.
Most presumed the boy's raving was insanity, that he'd finally snapped and gone off the deep end.
He could hear them, the voices in the walls. It wasn't just white noise, he'd come to understand what they were saying. The Shadows wanted him.
Covering his ears he screamed "Leave me alone! Just leave me alone!" but the darkness only deepened, creeping ever closer.
Somebody must have heard him, someone would come to save him... right? Surely they wouldn't let him be taken! He screamed again, this time for help, for any who may hear him. The inky blackness was all around him now, pooling around his feet. He felt the cold nothingness creep across him and then the ground fell from beneath him, plunging him into the murky shade.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he began to notice ill formed shapes moving around him; beings without substance, speaking a language equally as insubstantial. For the first time in months, he let his fear subside and truely listened. In that instant, he understood: The Shadows meant him no harm, this was his destiny. As they explained, he nodded and stood, following the creatures across the sparse, dim landscape.
“So what now?" He asked of the largest and most talkative of the group.
”Now?" It replied. "Now, you lead."

And so Jarral came to know his purpose, the reason for which he was born. He was a gift from one god to another, to act as emissary for the newly ascended God of Shadows, Secrecy and Knowledge.

Jarral speaks for the shadows themselves, watching with only dim interest as other outcasts find their way into the protection of his new Lord. As their own society develops, Jarral has been drafted into the High Council as the completely impartial voice of cool logic. He has no ulterior motives, no vested interests or indeed much care at all for what happens to the other outcasts. With no real feeling for those around him, Jarral’s decisions are based purely on what has to be done to achieve the outcome he’s been tasked with. While this could make him a ruthless leader, it also makes him a perfect counter to the other members of the Council, all of whom have their own agenda.