The Journal of the Imuchakk Exile, Kotanan's Glories and Conquests

Kotanan can best be described as 'strong willed', but that doesn't do the sheer force of his personality justice. He is bold and audacious, talking plainly and loudly with others or acting in a way that stands on the line between 'direct' and 'unconcerned with the consequences. He has a certain air of confidence and strength that he projects without necessarily intending to, a comforting presence that is both warm and rough at the same time; He can compliment others and admonish them in the same tone of voice and he rarely stops smiling even when he is stressed or uncomfortable, always keeping in control of himself. He also enjoys his own version of humor and charm, a sarcastic and sometimes cynical or deadpan view on situations or events that is often accompanied with rolling of his eyes or somewhat pointed grins.

He is also unwilling or perhaps simply unable to compromise his personal vision of his life and the things he wants for himself with anyone else, the sort of man who is resolute to a fault even if it means his own suffering. Kotanan sets goals for himself and pushes himself to meet them, to exceed them and then to move on to the next goal, and when he lacks a concrete goal he 'invents' them. Be it as simple as bettering himself in some way or as complex as spontaneously deciding he's going to perform some ludacris feat of arms or strength, stagnation and stillness are his natural enemies. None of this is to say Kotanan can't get along with others and indeed his bluster and confidence make him a natural crowd pleaser who will often throw himself into drink, food or banter with gusto when he wants to, and he enjoys being around people. No, Kotanan's disposition simply makes it so that unless he wants to cooperate or align himself with others, he won't. It's as simple as a matter of 'will' and 'won't', with all other factors excluded.

None of this is to say Kotanan can't relax or cut loose, but he has a habit of separating leisure time and work time into their own groups and doesn't cross them. If he's involved in something he takes seriously he won't spend much time resting or relaxing during it but as soon as his free time begins, he tends to play just as hard. Physical training and preparation are hobbies of his and he can often be found doing things like exercise or weapon movements in his free time, but he also enjoys drinking and socializing rather rambunctiously as well. Crashing into parties, getting into trouble, causing a general ruckus...When these aren't options, he tends to find more physically oriented ways of unwinding such as hunting, jogging, hiking or even just sightseeing around his current area. Kotanan has an appreciation for natural beauty and the state of the world, and has a fond spot for animals though he is quite terrible with them and has a bad habit of getting himself into trouble with those he isn't hunting or fighting. When these fail him, he tends to languidly throw himself into a nap or otherwise rest and recuperate, including enjoying a good soak in the bath or a swim.

An interesting extension of Kotanan's expansive need to become 'stronger' is his views on using that strength, which while primarily in his own interests, also extends to those who cannot show their own strength. Not those weaker than him necessarily, though he can decide to help those people, but his primary motivator is helping those whose strength has been suppressed or stolen. Victims of those stronger than themselves who are being restrained and kept from living or growing, such as slaves or those exploited and kept by others for whatever purpose. While he can ignore such people if he needs to, if he has to, Kotanan will often put himself in danger or on the line to help those kinds of people if he can. He wields his strength for himself, but something within him recognizes the indignity of being unable to live freely and he dislikes it.

Though Kotanan isn't ignorant of such things or unintelligent, he holds no particular interest in politics or the social movements of the world itself unless it interferes with his wishes or wants, and only then he will figure out how to avoid it or use it to his advantage and move on. Getting him to respect such things requires them to make a true impact on him and to somehow influence him which, considering his wandering habits and tendencies to focus on his own personal goals and intentions, is quite difficult. Personal connections are a good place to start in that way, and Kotanan enjoys making friends and companions as he travels, but he rarely stays in one place long enough to build true bonds of friendship or relationships, so naturally anyone who wants to keep around him needs to travel with him...Which has its own complications, considering Kotanan's personal motivations.

To put it succinctly, Kotanan lives for the glory of combat. It is that simple and has no frills or extravagences attached to it; He loves to fight, and it isn't necessarily limited to any one specific kind of fighting, either. Honorable duels and battles against powerful foes are just as invigorating to the man as drunken brawls with no victors or street fights and while he does possess a sense of honor and fairness, Kotanan isn't even remotely the sort who cares how a fight goes so long as he enjoys himself, and he seeks out new opportunities to test himself or simply to prove himself often. Oddly, this doesn't necessarily manifest in showing off or making a spectacle, though given his nature this can happen unintentionally, but it's a matter of his personal pride and strength. If he wins a fight with no witnesses, he's just as pleased as if he won in front of an audience or crowd, and he chooses his fights with that goal in mind. Challenging Kotanan to a contest of arms or presenting a worthy opponent to him is a good motivator for him, and he usually has no qualms about interrupting whatever he's currently doing to test his strength if the opportunity presents itself.

While his bold personality shows in public and in combat, there is also a quiet and reserved side to Kotanan that takes hold when he's alone or simply when he feels particularly irritated or pressured. This hardening of his mood is often accompanied by increasing levels of tension and loss of speech or even facial expressions; He begins to become almost mechanical in movements and at the peak of his stress he can seem to act almost robotically, flowing off of instinct and his own focus alone. In plain terms, the more he's enjoying a fight the louder and more boisterous he may become, but the more a fight grates or pressures him, the quieter and more serious he will be.

Kotanan is quite easy going despite his natural tendencies and doesn't often get agitated or irritated, or at least doesn't visibly show such things. He often seems, though excitable and loud, mostly at peace and unaffected by those around him who might be clouding him. In truth, he has a passionate temper that can run very close to the surface but he has worked for a great portion of his life to force himself to adjust and control what he does, what he says and how he reacts to others. When he loses that grasp on his emotions, however, his passions mean that he can actually slip into a sort of furious haze where he lashes out at whatever the source of his frustration is, or otherwise acts without thinking. This can result in humor, or tragedy, depending on the situation...

Kotanan's life began in an Imuchakk village, as his people tend to do. Warriors and hunters, foragers and sailors, Kotanan's family had long been cornerstones of the village for their strong lines and generations of warriors, and he was not expected to be any different. Large in size and personality even as a child, growing only more fit and sturdy with age, he should have played his born role splendidly. However, Kotanan lacked a warrior's control even then, a fierce emotion within him making it easier for him to lose control during spars and often stroking him with intense mood swings or simply moments of intense quiet; a worrying trait for someone expected to defend his village.

Out of all the children of his generation it was Kotanan who was held back the most. Stuck with instructors longer than others, watchers when he left the village, he was escorted or minded in some fashion for much of his young life. He was temperamental and dangerous, so the others said, and he needed to be protected. From others or from himself? Or was it others who needed to be protected from him? He would find out later that it was likely all of that, and more. He was not yet an adult, but no longer a child, and he has grown resentful of the minders and watchers he was stuck with throughout his life, and one day he bore it no longer.

It was a simple practice drill. He made a single mistake; A loose form but a tight grip, and he was disarmed. It should have been a moment of teaching and indeed it was, the instructor turning to advise others on what had happened. Kotanan saw red as the elder warrior explained the forms and movements one needed in combat. He complimented Kotanan, but he wasn't heard by the one who mattered; the shaken, isolated young man he had disarmed. In a haze of shame, of rage and pent up indignity, Kotanan lashed out. It was a simple hit with a full training instrument, but it struck home and the instructor fell dead. A crushing blow that would have been a remarkable one, had it not been a murder without honor.

Kotanan was caged within minutes. His trial was the elders in a circle, eying him furiously while mourners glowered at him from outside his bars. He sat alone upon the cold ground, a mixture of bitter anger and hot shock playing through him. He'd done something terrible, and he could not even explain why he'd done it. The others were right to fear him, to watch him, or so it seemed in that moment. There was only one decision to be made, and the Elders agreed to banish Kotanan. Without food, without a weapon, he was cast out of the village and left to fend for himself in the unforgiving ice.

With only his thoughts and his emotions to keep him company as he wandered, Kotanan found himself forced into self reflection. His outbursts, his anger, the distrust of his tribe, the feeling that had welled up inside him...A bitter, blackened feeling that robbed him of any chance of survival he would have had on his own, a self-loathing and malicious urge to just lay down upon the ice and surrender. So he did; Kotanan, for the first time in his life, let everything go and simply collapsed upon the ice to drift into blackness as hunger and exhaustion overwhelmed him.

When his eyes opened, there was a faint light. A voice called for him, and he tried to stand and face it only to find himself lost once more in the blackness. His limbs were weak, his body heavy, his thoughts clouded, he knew he was going to die...and then a hand touched him. Pulled him from the brink of death, pushed warmth into him, draped him in fire and when his eyes finally opened, he was staring at a Goddess. She spoke not a word as she rose from his side and rushed away, returning with men who spoke and asked him questions that he was barely able to answer. He never looked away from the woman whose eyes fell to the floor and would flicker to him when no one was looking, listening attentively but not truly part of things…

He learned he had been pulled onto a ship and brought back from the brink of death by a merchant who was making a trip into the ice and all they asked for in return was his help in finding new villages to bring trade to. Kotanan didn’t particularly care, speaking little aside from the barest of courtesy in response to questions and statements...he was too focused on the woman who he had awoken to. She called to him, not with words, but something in her eyes. Like a different person sparked into them the moment the merchant and his men were in the room and that person left when they did, leaving her alone with him.
Even through the weakness, the exhaustion, something in those eyes made him stop her when she tried to leave the next time she brought him food...and what she told him, with tears in her eyes, made him understand exactly what was happening. Not only had he failed to die properly, already shameful in it’s own twisted way, but he had been rescued by wicked men. Men who abused and imprisoned others, and that blackness that obscured him finally had an outlet. He rose from the ship’s deck and told his savior, his true savior, to wait.

When he had finished his duty, that which would wipe the stain from his pride and his honor, he left what was now a ghost ship alongside his savior and headed south. His plan was simple; Leave her somewhere safe, and take back off into the ocean to die as he was supposed to. To find the ice again and let the blackness take him once more, only this time chance could not rob him of his end...Yet it would never come to pass. Nenet, his savior, asked to come with him.

Kotanan had nowhere to go, and no goals to pursue. No life to live, except now he had someone who looked into his eyes and truly needed him...Someone who had no life as well. They were the same, empty of purpose and in that moment he understood what his purpose needed to become; Making sure Nenet would be okay without him.

That was how it started, at any rate…

Without a purpose, Kotanan simply took himself and Nenet in whatever direction his feet and the wind would carry them. Sometimes the journey was itself the purpose, taking them to new places she had never seen under the guise of some fictional beast or challenge he wanted to test himself with and often as he traveled, the most peculiar things began to happen. Beasts would cross his path and warriors would materialize, as if drawn to him and Nenet, or perhaps his size and countenance made them wish to challenge their strength against him...and he succeeded. Oftentimes against odds or opponents who ought to have ended his life, Kotanan would survive and overcome them.

It became like a game, to see how far he could push himself before he finally lost. His travels went where there was money and sport, using whatever coin he made past his mere living expenses to support Nenet and in making her his purpose he also began to relish the thrill of the challenges he faced. The hardships of travel, the clash of blades and arms against others, the strength he did not know he possessed suddenly boiling from within him and allowing him to grow, to succeed…

Without meaning to, his purpose grew. Without understanding it, he began to rely on Nenet just as much as she did him. She gave him a drive, a purpose, an anchor to stop himself from losing his way. Life began to mean something more than his own inner passions and bitterness, no longer restrained as he had been for so long. Without a cage, Kotanan has only grown and flourished alongside his partner and companion, their life together changing everything for them both...

Dingy, backwater towns like this were scattered around the world like weeds in grass, holding only value to themselves and those who needed a roof over their head and whatever meals they could get before they moved onto their next destination. It was no place for someone like her and Kotanan wanted to leave as soon as possible, but their traveling money had begun to run short. They needed more, and there wasn’t a single piece of honest work in a desert-locked sandspit like this for either of them, and so they were left with only one alternative. Dishonest work.

Kotanan’s size had made the shark come to him before he even had to look too hard. His black and gray hair slicked back with a twisted piece of bang coming down the center of his forehead, two brown eyes sparkling far too intensely for a dark bar like this as he saw Kotanan across the room and as Kotanan had sat, contemplating their next move as Nenet tried to stomach the food they’d been brought, the man had seated himself at their table with two rougher looking men flanking on either side of him. He’d introduced himself, Djeni, and had made the usual sorts of probing comments; Where had they come from, what brought them to town, did they have any plans.

The back-alley fights were offered as soon as Kotanan had mentioned looking for work, and he had tried not to hide the smile as Djeni spoke like it was some silly thing to make an offer like that. Bare knuckles, no killing, winnings based on the bets for the round, no betting on himself, the same greasy slang and words he’d heard before. When people got desperate, when people were so far in the desert even clouds were a rare sight, they turned to whatever means of entertainment and survival they could manage. It wasn’t the first time Kotanan had taken advantage of it to survive, and it wouldn’t be the last…

With one quiet look to Nenet, where she nodded after a moment of hesitation, Kotanan nodded himself and Djeni somehow managed to grin like a snake as he stood up and told them where to be, and when.

The first match had started at sunset, and Kotanan had snorted to himself as his opponent was revealed. They reeked of desperation, fear in their eyes as soon as they saw Kotanan and the fight wasn’t even worth recalling, nor the name of the opponent. Kotanan had quite literally walked towards them and sidestepped the clumsy punch they threw, grabbing them by their face and forcing them down onto the ground with a loud enough crash that the man didn’t get back up, but not enough to give him more than a headache and some bad memories. The rest of the matches were all the same, and Kotanan began to realize none of the opponents he’d faced so far were worth anything.

The crowd, merchants and those with any kind of coin, began to bet heavily on him by the third round. By the fifth, Kotanan was the favorite by such a margin that the winnings he’d get from these fights was a pittance and yet Djeni kept smiling in a way that made Kotanan...suspicious. Something wasn’t right.

Then the sixth round came, and his opponent was introduced. The other man was fairly tall, wobbling in on unsteady legs and looking thin through his shirt. He was wearing a hooded traveling cloak and seemed to hover near the edge of the circle in a way that suggested he didn’t want to fight, but Kotanan began to see the signs almost right away. What looked like lean, underfed limbs were rippling with muscle, what seemed to be a cautious stance was in such a way Kotanan was always in the fighter’s sight line and there was tension in his hands. Even as the betting went rampantly in Kotanan’s favor once again, he found himself bracing for what was about to come.

When Djeni yelled for the fight to begin and the stranger threw his cloak off, Kotanan was almost unsurprised to see the fiery red hair on his head or the sudden ferocity in his eyes. The Fanalis was in front of him before Kotanan had a chance to move, and the crowd suddenly went silent. There was no sound from anyone as the battle began.

No one except Kotanan.

Five rounds of fighting men too weak to even make him bat an eye. Five rounds of holding back, of tempering his hands so they didn’t break them apart like paper. Five rounds of a growing, hateful buzzing in his head that made him wonder if any amount of money was worth this indignity and five rounds of reminding himself Nenet was worth any frustration, any compromise of his strength.

Kotanan was laughing as the Fanalis seemed to appear in front of him, the other man’s arm already back with his hand clenched in a fist. Kotanan’s laugh continued as the fist came into contact with his hand, his fist closing over his opponent’s and crushing down on it as the Fanalis looked up at him for a split second. Just as Kotanan expected, there was nothing in those eyes but razor sharp instincts and fire, and before the red haired warrior could break away Kotanan shot his knee right up into the man’s chest and sent him sliding back across the ring.

There it was. The Fanalis caught himself and righted his form, fists coming back up and moving again, and Kotanan threw himself forward with a life he hadn’t felt this entire display. What had been deliberate, casual steps towards his other opponents was a leap across the stone with his full weight within it, stopping just short enough to swing to the side to avoid the fist that stabbed through all the air with more force and danger behind it than most weapons would in this arena. Kotanan swung his own arm out into a bar, catching the Fanalis with it but instead of driving him back, the other man caught it with his free hand and swung himself up onto it, using it as a brace to twist himself up Kotanan’s form like a snake and lock his ankles around Kotanan’s neck.

Kotanan couldn’t stop smiling, even as his arm was forced out and his breath was stopped by the force, his neck already protesting the treatment loudly. This was a fight. This was worth his time. All thoughts of just doing this for Nenet fled his mind as something within him roared to life and he reached around himself and grabbed the Fanalis’ ankle in one hand. It was slow, deliberate, the crowd holding it’s breath as Kotanan struggled to unlatch the Fanalis. Djeni’s smile in the background was bright enough it shone through the spots in Kotanan’s vision…

And then the ankle was ripped backwards, off his neck, and Kotanan kept his breath held as he forced it back hard enough this opponent had to either lose his ankle or release his grip, and he chose to not have shattered bones. Pushing off him, his opponent landed on his feet in a crouch a few feet away and immediately was back to rushing at Kotanan, expecting him to be gasping for breath and panicked.

Instead Kotana was himself grinning, his breath still held and his hand already coming out from the side, swinging down low to rise into the Fanalis’ face in an uppercut that sent his head swinging backwards and his body reeling. Djeni’s smile was fading as the other hand came down and slammed into the Fanalis’ side just below the ribs to knock him sideways, and then finally Kotanan threw his knee forward once more in a lunge that caught the Fanalis completely in the gut and actually lifting him into the air with a sputtered gasp for breath.

Before Kotanan could continue, his opponent lashed out and grabbed the knee that had just struck him, using it as a fulcrum to swing himself up and bring his leg into the side of Kotanan’s neck, continuing to aim for vital points intended to bring him down, and once more Kotanan’s head swam and his neck screamed protest. Spots were still dancing on his vision as the Fanalis met his eyes once more, both men staring at each other in that split second of contact…

The Fanalis didn’t bat an eyelash as Kotanan threw his hand up into the leg, grabbing it and sucking in a breath only now that the moment had passed. Kotanan was still grinning, despite the bruises already forming along his skin. On the sidelines, Djeni nervously stepped back out of the crowd who were starting to begin making noise again, cheering and screaming for Kotanan.

He didn’t hear them. His eyes hadn’t left his opponent, his senses were attuned to that moment, the way it felt to grip the other man’s knee and crush it into place, the feel of his leg slowly recoiling off his neck, the instincts that roared within him. There was no thought in this moment, no pain, no noise, no distractions.

Just the moment, and the next, and the next, until the moments would be over.