Valerius Drak’shia (Concept Writing)

“Come on sweetie, it’s time to wake up. We’ve saved up enough money to buy sweeten sap and flour for hotcakes.” My mother whispered compassionately in my ear. My subconscious instincts reacted before I processed what I just heard, because I shot up, nearly headbuting my mother in an adrenaline fueled awareness, before I even processed my mother words. I look up at my mother with eyes of wonderment, and then confusion. “Their almost done, if you don’t get up I will have to give them to Markus.” I pity the hotcakes if that be their fate, but alas we do not choose how we end… Now the confusion hits me once more, why would mother go to such expense to give me a treat? Up until recently when we traveled into the city to sell our crops, I would always stand in front of the bakery astonished by the concept of such a place. Not just the bakery, but most of the city on a whole. They cared not for the proper weather for crops, they don’t have to raise their own food for survival, and they don’t have to lay awake in fear when they hear the howls of wolves and the terrible sound of a hippogryph’s shriek. The worst the city has is criminals, while we have lawless bandits, ghouls and other beasts.
One can’t do anything but feel pity for ghouls, unless they are actively trying to rip out one’s throat, then one would be wise to fear them. Papa says that they were heathens who committed blasphemy against the gods. He says this is their pre-damnation before they reach the underworld. Mother says they were simply on the wrong side of fate. She says that they were destined to turn into ghouls. Even if I want to understand what she meant, she won’t explain it to me.
“Wipe that stupid look off your face sis. I know you’re not dim enough to forget your own birthday, are you?” My brother teases as he walks into my small room. He may act mean, but I can still remember him coming home with fresh bruises and a black eye, after he figured out that some of the bigger kids were harassing me. He didn’t stand a chance against the gang bigger kids, but he did enough to get his point across painfully clear. “I’ll die for my family”. Out of the one and a dozen bullies, only three were able to walk around without a week of recuperation. Makus was never martially gifted like most of our kind, but he was still a Hunter.
Birthday, what does he mean? The remnant of sleep washes away when I finally realize what day it is. Why am I sitting here daydreaming!?! I think to myself, as I jump onto my feet, and practical fly out of my bed as I charged for the door. “Markus don’t tease- where do you think your going?” My mother called as rushed past her and my older brother. My home is a small one, so as soon as I left my room I was already in the kitchen/dining/congregation room. All three bedrooms are connected to this one central place in the house, past this; there are no other rooms in the house.
“Why if I didn’t know any better I would have mistaken you as a charging boar.” Papa says while swooping me off my feet as I was in mid stride and lift me high into the air. “Happy seventh birthday, sweetie! What nothing to say?” He comments. “Well it was worth a try.” He then kisses my forehead and puts me back where he found me. I look at him as if I’m sorry. I’m a mute, and sometimes I feel that my family is disappointed in that fact. It seems to me that I can’t be the as good as I can be in their eyes unless I speak. I can’t tell them I love them, but Papa says actions speak louder than words, and that I’ve acted plenty. I can’t cry for help, but Markus says that just means that he won’t let me out of his sight. It will be hard for me to marry, but mother says that someone will love me for who I am. I love them all so much, even if I complicate their lives I know that they love me as well.
“Don’t look so sad. I would be jumping for joy if I were in your ‘shoes’, you're about to have the meal of your life.” He says shoes sarcastically, due to only the rich or well-off have shoes, while we have to settle with sandals. My brother is nine as of a few full moons ago. He has just now got out of his growth spurt. He has grown a full two heads and a half in just one season last year. While he does stand tall by our village standards, he is still half a head shorter than our Papa. With the exception of a few wisps of grey in Papa’s hair, he and my brother look strikingly similar in the face. They both have sharp facial features, and lean builds (Though papa is still more bulky by far.). Papa is the largest man I have ever seen, even compared to the city folk. Everyone in the village and outsiders fear him like the plague, but no one will tell me why. I assume it is because he is a Hunter. Complete strangers treat him as if they know him, or at least know of him.
I look up at Papa. He has the eyes of the Hunters. His eyes may look at me with love, but those bestial eyes would set off almost anyone else. The Hunters are one of the most feared,but lowest caste that exist in the surrounding city states. Those who are born of the Hunter caste are hindered from birth by the pre judgemental beliefs and superstitions that surrounding them. Not helping the with superstitions about Hunters, is that the Hunter caste are one of the few species that can become shades. Some say it is because we are evil, others say it is because we are strong enough to survive such an ordeal. Shades are beings with multiple souls trapped inside of them. Shades are neither good nor evil, but are shamed and ridiculed at every turn, and as thus they are mostly as hermits.
While staring into Papa’s deep green feline eyes with hints of amber around the center, I am reminded of my Hunter eye. All half breeds have it just as bad as true bloods when interacting with outsiders. Half-blooded Hunters only have one Hunter eye. Full Hunters have fully clawed hands and feet as well as fanged canines. They have armoured scales lining there forearms and shin. The scales also line the side and back of the neck tracing its way to cover the upper half of the cheeks. Hunters also mature twice as fast compared to humans and live two times as long. My brother had inherited everything Hunter, except for the fangs and claws, while both of my feet and hands are clawed and, my teeth are lightly fanged. And by this I mean all my teeth. Half-bloods usually have strange mutations that are neither Hunter nor ordinary human traits. I inherited everything but, the full set of hunter eyes.. That being said my other mutation includes my legs. My legs are shaped in a way that it makes me look like I’m always bending my legs slightly. My legs would be unproportional to my body if I could straighten my legs. Other than aesthetics, I see no downside. I can run and climb faster than anyone else that I know. Besides Markus says that it is a common mutation for half-bloods.
One of my earliest memories was when I was two and I was playing with the village children in mid-harvest season. They accepted me at first even with my appearance. I don’t really talk so, they thought I was shy. They decided that we should play a round of tag to help me warm up to them. The instant the game started ran up a tall tree with speed that no child should possess. When I looked down at my playmates, I smiled broadly while crouched on a tree limb. When they saw my teeth they all screamed and called me an evil daemon. They grasped at loose stones in the dirt and started throwing them at me. One cloaked me on the chin, which caused me to fall out of the tree and I hit my head on the ground as a result. When I awoke I was in my father’s arms. He was hurt. I could tell by the bandages that covered his body. Our whole family was on the road heading for a new village to call home. Luckily my father had a find that lives in the village that we are currently living in
But none of that matters anymore, because now it is my birthday. And I intend to be happy with my family. “Why don’t you go out to play? I will call you when your breakfast is finished.” My mother said to me as she walks towards the stove. My mother is a beautiful woman, but far from elegant. She is tempered into a strong person from the fires of her past. She is made tough from living in the wilderness of the barbaric clans from the western mountains. Her beauty can be described as something akin to feral, or the kind of beauty that can be found in a predator. She has raven black hair that betrays her real age; her eyes are the same of one of mine. We have eyes of light blue. The color that comes from shallow waters. She is an ex-ranger. She was a pathfinder specialist and a survival instructor, though she was never really known as a warrior, unlike the rest of the rangers. She taught me and my brother everything that she knew about tracking, hunting, and surviving in a hostile environment of almost any kind. Whether it be the deserts of Balsaba or the sweltering tropics of Lustria. It wasn’t hard for her to teach us since Hunters have a form of eidetic memory, which helps since we grow up quickly. Some half-breeds lose it after they stop growing, but that is more uncommon than common.
My brother waves his hand to get my attention as he makes his way to the door. “Come on Val, let's wander around the woods a little.” He likes to call me Val though full given name is Valerius. Our father grew up in a part of the Imperial Confederation. The Imperial Confederation is an incoherent remnant of the Empire of the Dominion. The old empire was ruled by all the types of species who considered themselves “People” or that is what I’m told. Now it’s split into multiple regions that are ruled by a single species. The ones rule by the Rak’shai ,also know as the Hunters, is one of the tribunal races that runs the confederation. Papa also says that the Rak’shai rule with an iron fist and that their society is heavily based on slavery. Papa says that their military might in the Imperial Confederation is only rivaled by one of the other members of the tribunal.
“Well are you coming or not? We could go hunting if you want.” At that, I cheerfully began to follow my brother. “Though first we have to go to the church and meet with the priest.” While I am still following Markus, it is no longer cheerful. We better still be hunting after this. The priest isn’t exactly a bad man. It’s just that he is a arrogant, pompous, vain hypocrite. That said, other than religious views of others, he is surprisingly non judgemental. He doesn’t quite like our chosen God, but he does not discriminate against us. the worst he says is that we believe in a slave God. He never acts negatively against us. He was also one of my father's old friends. Father says that he would travel the world helping those in need.