A/N: This is the past of my OC character in K Entertainment's FFXII fanfic, Clan Infamous: Help Wanted!. Anybody reading this will probably be lost if they haven't played the game or read the story I mentioned in the line above. I normally try to write in much better quality, but this really isn't a major project of mine, so whatever. I'll probably end up doing this into five or six chapters; length of time between updates will be unknown. Please enjoy.
History of Nematus Draken Lazarus
Chapter 2 Nematus' Pursuit of Strength
Pain was all that he could feel. His head felt like it wanted to explode into fire as it throbbed constantly.
Pain.
That was the first thing he experienced as he began his entrance into a new life. Normally, one would feel warm embraces, soothing and uplifting words, a friendly face to greet them, or all of the above. Why couldn't he have been one of those. Life has had a way of being a real bitch to Nematus. What divine being in their sane mind would destroy everything a four year old boy ever knew in less than a week? Some reall assholes, that's for sure. But, thankfully, karma took pity on him. The blow he took from the zaghnar gave him a case of amnesia concerning.
He woke up groaning in pain, which was soon responded to by a Garif woman. Her hands, massive compared to a hume's, take delicate care to not accidentally injure the small child even more.
"What hurts, Child?" she asked in a motherly tone. The boy could only continue groaning.
Merely taking a shot in the dark, she placed a cold, wet rag on his tiny head. To her relief, his moans of pain stopped almost instantly. They were soon graced with the appearance of the Next-in-line War Chief, Supinelu. The hulking figure stared pitiedly at the young child. "So he has awoken?"
"Yes, Supinelu. The child was in pain when I heard him moan. It appears his head is in much pain."
"A fever, perhaps?" he asked. If so, than they'd have to keep him clear of the other villagers till he recovered. "Well, I've just finished burying the remains of his mother and father. There...wasn't much left. Please send someone to get me if Nematus' condition changes."
She nodded understandingly. This child's parents were friends of Supinelu, and had regularly traded with their village in the past. The unexpected loss of two friends was obviously affecting the War-Chief's son.
Over the course of the next few days, the Garif woman continued to look after Nematus till his fever finally broke. Supinelu didn't know whether to be distressed or relieved that the boy was suffering from slight amnesia and couldn't remember the events several days before. He could consider the kid lucky to some small degree. Feeling an obligation towards his late friends, Supinelu chose to adopt Nematus the day he had been elevated to War-Chief, replacing his older brother, Kadalu.
It took no time for the taners to make some clothes for the hume child; afterall, he was about the size of a Garif infant. The craftsmen in the village even enjoyed making a Garif mask for the child. Having no memory of his past or anything to hold him back, he adapted to his new way of life very quickly. Sure, he stuck out among the kids of the village, but they understood his situation after a quick explanation from their parents. They knew picking on his looks would only cause him to question himself and possibly unlock his memories. The effect that could have on his mind would be catastrophic.
The woman Garif continued to look over him, causing Supinelu and her to eventually become close enough to become mates. With a promise to each other, they vowed to raise Nematus as best as they could. They agreed to let Tanyar, the woman, to teach Nematus the necessity of family and anything unrelated to battle or hunting, while Supinelu would teach him how to hunt and fight. They would make sure to the best of their abilities that he would always be able to defeat anyone who would ever threaten him, his friends, or his family.
Till he was deemed old enough to actually train, Nematus was under the constant teachings of his adoptive mother. The lessons would range from the Garif's history, the role each member in their village has, the importance of those roles, the wide variety of paths one could choose from as his/her's role in the clan, knowledge of the medicinal usages of each and every plant on the Ozmone Plains, cleaning and cooking kills brought in by the hunters, farming and livestock raising, socializing with others of the Jaraha tribe, and lastly, magic. She was one of very few Garifs who used magics, making her the premier healer in the tribe. She also knew some offensive magics, such as quake, which could shatter the earth under an enemy, or bio, which often inflicted a 'sap' illness that constantly drained the energy of its target.
Being a child, he found the history of the Garif people exciting, always wanting a story before going to bed. Like any other kid, he found all the lessons concerning the roles of people in the clans boring, this partly brought on by influence of the younglings his age. It took just an explanation to the kids' parents for them to chatise their own kids. They soon understood that there was a strong reason for all of these teachings for Nematus, so they soon ceased their shaninigans whenever he was around.
Unsurprisingly, the parents discovered Nematus was little to no problem with the concept and labor of farming, raising livestock, and tending to the chocobos. The boy's parents were farmers, afterall. Not only was he adept in farming, but the magics as well. He'd successfully casted his first quake spell on his father, though it only shook the ground enough to make the War-Chief lose his balance and fall on his butt. It was an improvement though.
They kept teaching him while he grew up, only once had they had to empty his schedule due to Tanyar's pregnancy and giving birth to a small boy. They decided to name him after Supinelu's late friend and Nematus' father, Johan. The name was a little strange for a Garif child, but it wasn't the worst. When Nematus finally reached the age of eight, he was now old enough to start training, although at the minor stage.
He seemed to not ever be able to get into it, everyone figured. They didn't understand why. Having been raised in with the Garif people, the child was just as strong as the other boys, who were about four times as strong as the average hume child his age. He loved to wrestle, sharing victories and losses with the boys, so he wasn't a pacifist. After about an entire year, he finally climb out of his lacadaisical shell. He began excelling at the training lessons taught to him and was soon able to outfight most of the boys who haven't gone on their first hunt. Having been just a little weaker than them, he made up for it with his speed that he got from having a different body design.
Jumping at the opportunity, Supinelu begins taking Nematus out onto the plains to begin honing his hunting skills. He tought the boy the locations of game trails, known nesting grounds for game and monsters alike, the extreme dangers of the Zertinan caverns, and the migration patterns of the beasts on the plains. After several months, he began showing Nematus how to identify and track each beast; how to calm his body and mind and pay attention to the land around him, because it always holds some kind of danger; to prepare traps and out-think monsters, how to determine from the humidity what kind of weather to expect and when the seasons changed, and finally, how and where to look for weakspots on each monster.
To Nematus, the amount of knowledge his father knew appeared to be limitless. Never could he have imagined so many things when hunting on the Ozmone plains. So, one can imagine his surprise when his father finally told him he was ready to go on his first hunt and also to fight a zaghnar. It was a rite-of-passage amongst the young boys of the Jahara village, as to be able to successfully hunt would show that he could provide for the village, and to be able to defeat a zaghnal would prove that there would be hardly any monster that would harm him while hunting or foraging.
On the selected week of his rite, there were several other boys attempting it as well. He knew them all so well and was friend to most, if not all of them. Most were 16 hume years, but not him. He was only 11yrs old. If the rest his age were to learn everything he did in the order he learned them, then they'd be still trying to learn how to identify beasts by their tracks. His father called him a true prodigy, which made him happier than anything. Having been taught about respect and all by his mother for four years, he knew that to boast would cause the villagers to frown upon him and his family.
Hurting his mother's feelings would be the most painful wound of all, so keeping her teachings in mind, he never did more than smile when they cheered for him as he and the others trekked off onto the vast Ozmone plains. There were two Garif warriors standing guard by the edge of the path that lead to the village. There, they handed the students the necessary weapons needed to make a trap and to fight a zaghnal. With just a nod of assurance from the warriors, the younglings went out on their own with their blades and food.
Nematus had made quick work of finding a fresh trail, one that led through the tall grass. He'd have to be very careful here. Vipers loved to hide underneath rocks and within tall grass to surprise potential prey; and what better prey than a hume child, barely an adolescent. His wariness paid off. Not one second after he came within five meters of the tall grass did the massive snake spring out of its hiding place.
They normally pause before attempting some sort of attack, his father taught him. He momentarily dull their senses when the come forth so quickly, intending on just recovering from it and attacking while the prey is still startled. Unfortunately for this viper, Nematus was expecting it and already had his weapon drawn. Seizing the moment that the viper's equilibrium was off, Nematus severed its head with one swing. The headless body would flounder around for several minutes, the nerves not yet dead from the quick decapitation.
'This is perfect', he thought. Now he had live-bait; he stressed the word 'live'. He drew upon his knowledge of trap making from his memory and soon had the contraption done in less than 30 minutes. His father would have been proud. It was a simple design: he'd lay the bait down in the middle of the path, between two suspended strings that were about knee high and went across the path. When a hungry animal would approach, its foot would push against the string, causing it to snap, which would unleashed a limb held under stress that had sharp sticks strapped to it. The limb would snap forward, impaling any unlucky prey. The tips of the spikes were coated with poison from the viper, so even if the trap didn't kill the prey immediately, the venom would soon afterwards.
He left the path, but not before marking its entrances with a red paint, a signal to let other Garif know that the area was trapped and extreme caution should be taken. After setting up three more traps in a triangle pattern around the first one, using chopped chunks of the first serpent, which still would twitch every now and than, he finally rested. Keeping his back against the rock wall that snaked through the plains, he rested his body and mind and gave an attentive ear to the land around him like his father taught him.
He could hear in the distance the challenging roars of two zu, probably over a mate or nesting ground. To the South, he could hear the faint 'neeees' of a small herd of mesminir grazing. His ears picked up the faint sound of footsteps moving far away, perhaps two hundred yards, and could feel the vibrations traveling from the ground up into his body. The numerous volcanic rocks underneath the ground made for an excellent tool to detect large monsters or invaders. This sound could only belong to the enkelados, the massive, two-legged dinosaur that roamed the northern region of the plains. It only came out under certain conditions, so it was rare to ever hear one, much less see one.
A sudden wailing cry from nearby drew Nematus' attention. A monster had gotten snagged on one of his traps. Moving with caution, he caught sight of his prey. He couldn't believe his eyes. It was a bull croc! This gators weren't any stronger than the other monsters on the plain, but they were extremely rare. Knowing that its weakness was earth, he gathered the strange energy inside his body, an energy commonly known as 'mist', and shot a snake-like stream of green mist at the croc.
Much to his excitement, it worked. The brown fur of the croc turned a pukish green, a side-effect of being inflicted with sap. Now the croc was both poisoned and losing energy. Summoning up more mist, he casted a quake spell. The ground cracked underneath the irate beast than shot upward into rock spikes. Several punctured the beast, but they soon broke off. Not having to finish it off up close, Nematus stayed out of sight till the combined effort of the poison and sap drained all the life out of beast. After what felt like thirty minutes of struggling and rampaging, the bull croc finally fell dead.
With joy, he let out a whistle that all trainees and Garif hunters & warriors learn to signal that a kill has been made. It took him much longer to learn it, given that his body isn't like the garif's. About ten minutes later, two hunters arrived at his spot. Expecting a mesminir or viper, they were shocked as well to see that their little hume hunter caught one of the rarest monsters in Ozmone Plains. They congratulate him and continue to inspect how he field dresses it, making sure his technique is of good mastery. When he finished, they both agreed that it was done correctly and take the now-much lighter carcass with them to the village.
"Now, all you must do is slain zaghnal. Be very careful. You know they never travel by themselves. We hope to see you return to us soon, young Nematus."
"War-Chief Supinelu will brag about this kill for months," the other one said. "We will have to sew his lips shut to give our ears rest."
They shared a good laugh and left the boy to complete his rite. Nematus silenced his doubts and butterflies and made his way to the middle of the plain. Zaghnals could always be found there. He wasn't wrong, either. It didn't take him thirty seconds to find a pair of the large, bi-pedal werewolves stomping around. He approached them and gave out a battle cry. The werewolves understood this very well, having seen this same action took place countless times. It was a challenge from any young Garif wanting to prove himself a man. Much to their confusion, this one was just a hume child.
Eager to get an easy meal, they both rush at him. Nematus had focused more of his mist energy and launched another quake spell. The ground shook, making one beast fall on his back, which got impaled several times by rock spikes, while the other got enough with just a deep laceration on its back. It roared in anger before breaking the spikes impaling its partner. The zaghnal didn't respond, which only infuriated the wounded one more. It dranked something, turning its skin red. Nematus heard about this. That zaghnal just drank a bacchu's wine, sending it into berserk mode.
It gave another roar before rushing at the boy. Nematus steeled himself and rushed forward as well, his Garif blade ready to draw more blood. When the werewolf swung his right claw in a horizontal motion, the boy rolled underneath it and landed a large cut to the back of the beast's right knee, crippling that leg. Adrenaline now pumping freely through his veins, Nematus jumped into the air about twenty feet, higher than he had done ever before, and drove the end of his blade deep into the wolf's back. With a burst of strength, he twisted and pulled the blade, cutting through the zaghnal's spinal cord.
Glee could be seen in his eyes from behind the Garif mask he wore, personifying his excitement and happiness. With a low, sad howl, the zaghnal fell forward dead. He gave another whistle, this one made for signifying the completion of his rite. He suddenly heard some clapping from behind him. He turned and saw a small lot of various beings, mostly humes and bangaa, giving him a small applause. A hume man in about his thirties stepped forth.
"You've got some skill, kid. How old are you?"
"I'm eleven. The youngest one to ever undertake the Garif's rite-of-adulthood," he answered proudly. His enthusiasm seemed to feed the man's chuckle.
"Well, you're pretty damn good for a child. Now what on Earth is an eleven year old doing taking a Garif rite-of-adulthood?" he asked curiously.
"I'm the son of War-Chief Supinelu and healer Tanyar. They said I was ready, so they let me take it."
"You're parents are Garif?" He looked between his fellow companions and they all shared a silent conversation, quickly coming to the likely conclusion that this boy was an orphan of the plague. These Garif must've raised him up from a very young age if he's calling them his parents.
"Who might you be?" Nematus asked. The man did a gracious bow in apology.
"I'm sorry, how rude of me. We are just a clan that hunts down marks and rare games. We were coming here to hunt down the bull croc. You think you might know where we could find it?"
They seemed to already know this answer, judging by the gleam in his eyes. "I do. You can find it in the village. I killed it earlier!" There were some complaints from the group at hearing their mark was snagged by an eleven year old. The only one who didn't seem upset was the leader.
"Tell you what, you've got some serious potential, my fellow Garif. We operate out of Nalbina. If I came back in a few years, would you be interested in joining our Clan? We travel all over Ivalice to hunt dangerous monsters and make a name for ourselves. Would you like to think that over?"
Not knowing what to say really, Nematus nodded slowly. The group said farewell and started making their way to the last known location of another mark they'd accepted. A few minutes later, two Garif warriors came up and applauded him for his completion. They severed the heads and brought them to the village as proof to the clan that their little hume Garif was no longer a feeble boy, but a hunter/warrior. Hopefully, he won't have to protect or provide for the clan for three or four more years. He's had such a busy, time-consuming childhood, he hasn't ever spent any time for himself.
By the end of the day, every one of the Garif trainees returned successful, calling for a great celebration. Not in a long time has all of their younglings come back safe and sound. They prepared the meat that was caught for tomorrow night's ceremony to end the rites. The giving out of the masks that the new hunters and warriors will wear and grow into for the rest of their life.
Tanyar smothered her hume child in her arms in happiness when he had arrived with the warriors. "Nematus! I'm so proud of you, my son!" She shared the embrace with her other son as well. The small four year Garif child, Johan, laughed happily as he jumped into the embrace of his big brother.
"Waaay goo, Nema...Nema-TUSH!" The small group laughed at the child's mispronunciation.
Supinelu grabbed Nematus from behind in a monstrous bearhug and lifted him clear off his feet. "That's my boy! The hunters told me you had caught that bull croc and I couldn't believe it! You've made me so proud!"
"Dad, there's something...I need...to tell you!" the boy cried out while being shaked. The War-Chief set him down, the excitement visible through his mask. "What is it, Son?"
Nematus told them about meeting the hunting clan just after killing the two zaghnals and what their leader said and about his offer. That sorta crushed the mood. Johan misunderstood and became afraid that 'Nematush' was going to leave them. Tanyar and Supinelu tried to be as open to the idea as possible, but they were still worried. Joining a mark hunting clan would mean that Nematus would get to travel the world, even revisit, but the purposes would mainly be to hunt dangerous monsters.
They had a serious discussion that night while in bed. They were obviously worried, but Supinelu was leaning towards letting him join. It had nothing to do with him being a hume, but..he had completed a task that was suppose to be impossible for one his age. At this rate, there would be way he could get stronger. That was their vow they promised to each other: they'd raise him to the best of their ability to become strong enough to protect himself, his friends, and family. It's very possible that no one in the village will be able to push him to his full potential.
"Than it's decided. I will train him as hard as I can. The man said he'd come by in a few years. By than...Nematus will have already become better than me. We'll let him go," Supinelu decided. "But...only if he promises to visit." He added that last part to cure the frown he knew was under his mate's mask.
"Thank you," she said softly. They soon went to sleep, though not easily.
-3 years later
Nematus stood triumphantly over his father. This was the tenth straight victory he's had over the War-Chief. He has come a long way. The week following his masking ceremony, Nematus' father has trained him almost every day for the past three years. In the mornings, they'd run through the Ozmone plains; the purpose being to being able to run and maneuver while working on reflexes by dodging vipers and spells and attacks thrown at them by just about everything. Than, throughout the day, they'd spar till the sun sets.
During the night, Supinelu would take Nematus just outside the village to find solitude so he could pray that the gods would bless his son and make him as strong as the mountains. Nematus' constant improvements in all of his skills were the only signs of proof he had to continue the ritual. Nematus was getting taller and stronger over the course of that first year. His progress was astounding. It's as if his body would absorb everything and was still starving for more.
Over the course of the second year, Supinelu decided to train Nematus within the bowels of the Zertinan Caverns. A horrible place, the caverns are. They're filled to the top with powerful monsters of all sorts, along with natural dangers, such as loose boulders and quicksand. There was life-threatening danger all around all the time. The War-Chief was proud of his son's progress, but he was still apprehensive. If Nematus was too soon become too powerful for these monsters, than the only places left with beasts that could make him stronger were the Feywood and the Henne Mines.
They'd have to cross through the Golmore Jungle to get there. The Viera are familiar with the Garif people, so they shouldn't have too much problem towards them. They recognized the nearby Jahara village as a tribe like their own, though more open. Where as the habitat they were the masters of was the forest, the Garifs were the masters of the Ozmone Plains. Yes, they wouldn't have too much problem with them crossing to the Feywood, save for suspicions about why a hume child and a Garif War-Chief would want to go to such a cursed land.
Much to his expectations, Nematus soon became strong enough to brave the Zertinan Caverns on his own whenever Supinelu wasn't able to go. If one were to use libra on him, they see Nematus' power level around the mid-forties. He was much stronger than all the other Garif, possibly even most of the Viera wood-warders. Supinelu wanted to hold back till the end of the second year to take his powerful son to the Feywood, but when he started killing most of the monsters with a single spell or a few attacks, he knew that he would be holding him back. He couldn't break his promise. If he could get him stronger, than by the gods, he'll take him to the Feywood and Henne Mines himself.
Only three quarters through the second year did the two take their first steps into the Golmore Jungle. The dense, dark woods were a far-cry from the openess and sun-lighted paths of the Plains. This was no place for a Garif. Nematus and Supinelu used the techniques they used on the plains to safely navigate through the woods. They successfully avoided giant tree monsters and strange cats and wolves. Because they had trained ears, they just barely heard a pack of Viera wood-warders getting into position in the tree tops around them.
"Forest Guardians, please don't attack. We only mean to travel to the Feywood," Supinelu called out. Seeing that their cover was blown, six tall, fierce, but beautiful, Viera women hopped from their perches onto the platform, completely surrounding the strange pair.
"Why is a Garif traveling here. This is no place for your kind," one spoke. She was much taller and muscular than the others (one of Kel's super Viera) and her image demanded absolute authority. However, the two were not intimidated as much as she'd hope.
"My son has become too strong for the beasts that roam the plains and caverns. We seek stronger ones in the Feywood and Henne Mines to help him grow into a better warrior," Supinelu explained.
She wouldn't have mind to let them pass, but something was off about his son. He looked very sick compared to his father. He wore the mask, but everything else: build, hair, skin-color; was just different. "Why does your son look so different?"
The War-Chief hesitated for a few moments to answer that question. His biggest concern would be to somehow make Nematus remember something he wouldn't, and being called out as a hume was a sure fire way to do it. "Nematus, cover your ears. Please."
The confusion couldn't be seen underneath the boy's mask, but he did as he was told. When he was sure his boy couldn't hear him, he answered the just as confused Viera. "Nematus is a hume. His family was killed by beasts on the Ozmone Plain when he was just a tiny child. He was injured in the process and can't remember anything about his life with his family. Me and my mate took him as our own and have raised him for eight years, so far. He has been raised just like a Garif, and even completed his rites-of-adulthood a year-and-a-half ago. He is the strongest Garif...even stronger than me. The reason I want him to become so strong is so that he will be able to protect hisself, his friends, and his family. This is why I beg you make an exception for him."
The Viera were stunned. They shared many whispers among one another, trying to take in this unbelievable story. One Viera in particular looked very concerned, but none asked her about it. The 'super-Viera' finally ended the talks and turned back to their visitors. "All that we ask is that we see his face. I understand that you Garif keep your masks worn till death, but we only wish to know what he looks like so we may not accidentally mistake him for an imposter and shoot him."
It was a very large request, but one that was understandable. The Viera have had very hostile history with the humes, so if they knew what Nematus looked like, they could always check the identity of anyone who tried to travel through the Wood dressed as a Gariff and see if it's an imposter. Reluctantly, he motioned for his son to drop his hands.
"Son, I want you to take off your mask."
"What! Why, Father?" Nematus couldn't understand why. Being raised in Garif culture, he understood that Garifs wore their masks till they died. Why was he an exception?
"It's because you look different, Son. They only wish to memorize your face so they don't mistake you for someone else."
Still confused and upset about it, Nematus slowly pulled his bone mask off of is head, revealing his face to the Viera. He was a slightly tan hume boy with a strong looking face. Indeed, his eyes, which were an unusual yellow color, showed a fire burning in them. One that resembled some of the eyes Viera warders get when they're determined. He had brown, messy hair that went to his neck and had bangs that came down almost to his eyebrows. There was a good chance that he would grow to be a strong, handsome young man.
Satisfied with having his face drawn into memory, and only when they felt sure that they could spot him out of a bustling crowd, they nodded and the massive Viera woman nodded appreciatively as well. Not having to be told, Nematus eagerly put his mask back on.
"Thank you for being so accepting, Forest Guardian. I understand that your people and the humes are not very friendly," Supinelu said with relief. The Viera all acknowledged, some glad to finally meet a hume who was different from the rest.
"He is a very rare exception, Garif. Please be careful. The Feywood is a very dangerous place. Especially for a young man like Nematus." She added the 'young man' part as respect towards his accomplishments at such a young age.
They bidded the two farewell and watched them walk off, still reeling from that strange story. While the two were walking, Nematus muttered to his dad. "Wow...those were Viera? They're beautiful," he admitted, completely unaware of how well a Viera's hearing was. The group of women giggled and felt flattered by the innocent boy's compliment. They soon left to continue their patrol.
The War-Chief and his son had reached the Feywood in about thirty minutes. There was a huge opening in an even bigger rock wall that marked the beginning of the mist-infested valley. The fog was so thick, the two could hardly see thirty feet in front of them. They hadn't walked for one minute into the woods before six mirrorknights, bird-like monsters that resembled the Wu from the plains, surrounded them. Thus their quest for strength resumed with blood and battle cries. All of the beasts within the Feywood perked their ears up and turned their heads towards the general direction of the rucus. It would be the battlecry they would come to fear for the next year in a half.
-1.5 years later
The man by the name of Cifer Klaudias, the leader of the 13 Swords Clan, was keeping his promise that he'd made a certain Garif/hume child three years ago. He had found himself wondering how the child was doing throughout these past years. He'd meant to go check up on him, but business has been a'boomin' lately, so his hands have been tied. When one mark was calling for them just a few days ago, he'd forcibly stopped each and every one of his subordinates to drop the mark so they could make an old appointment.
He had brought a few others with him on this particular assignment. The rest of the clan voiced their opinion on the matter. They would accept the kid if he could prove himself, but they didn't think he will seriously consider it. None the less, a promise is a promise, and Cifer Klaudias keeps his promises. So, not three days ago had he began his trek back to the Ozmone Plains.
He arrived at the path to the village and explained his business. When he mentioned having made a promise to a hume boy who was taking his rites-of-adulthood, they immediately knew who he was talking about. By what they've told him, that 'little hume boy' has made quite a reputation for himself within the village. He and the others entered the village, greeted by polite Garif either tending to their livestock or preparing the night's supper.
When he made his way deeper, he was approached by a muscular Garif. "I'm Supinelu, the War-Chief of Jahara village. Am I right that you are the leader of the hunter's clan that came by here three years ago?"
He was surprised that they remembered such a thing so easily. The Garif took his silence as a yes and motioned for them to follow. "Come with me. You seek an answer from my son, Nematus. We have been preparing for this day for three years."
Cifer hadn't expected an answer like that at all. That kid sure had some dedication. He was motioned to wait outside a tent as the War-Chief entered. Seconds later, another one rushed out of the tent. He was a much thinner Garif that had lighter skin and no fur anywhere. Not to say he wasn't muscular. By far from it. He had the body that can only be achieved by years of hard constant training. His face was covered by a mask just like the rest of the natives, so his face couldn't be seen.
Supinelu soon came out and made the introductions. "This is my son, Nematus, the one who you had talked to years ago. He is only 14yrs old now, but he has long surpassed all of the Garif in combat and hunting ability. It was years ago when he was able to finally better me. Nematus, you remember this man."
"I could not forget. Mister-"
"You may call me Cifer, Nematus. I must say, you've done quite a bit of growing lately."
The boy slowly nodded. "We'd long since made our decision. We'd made a promise to make him as strong as possible, to push him to his maximum potential," the father explained. "After he became too strong for the monsters on the plains and in the Zertinan Caverns, we got permission from the Viera to travel through the Golmore Jungle to train in the Feywood and Henne Mines. The Henne Mines still have monsters that prove to be somewhat of a challenge, but he has proven that none is stronger in a one on one match."
Cifer let out a low whistle. "You really took this whole offer seriously, didn't you? You know, I really respect that. Not many will have ever worked as hard as I've heard you worked. I would be honored to have you as a fellow hunter. Are you sure you're ready to leave your home at such a young age?"
Supinelu was glad that this man showed this much concern about Nematus' personal being. It was a quality of a good leader. "Yes," his son answered. "We've known this day was coming. My belongings are already packed. I've only to say farewell to my mother and little brother."
"Ohh, you've got a little brother? Congratulations, though I believe I might be horribly overdued," Cifer said apologetically. They dismissed it.
So Nematus said good-bye to his mother and little brother, the former forcing Cifer to promise to watch over him or she'd skin him like she does to vipers. Taking the hint, he sincerely promised her he'd look over him with his life, though the danger will still be there. They've lost two members this year already. He said he'd make sure not to let Nematus become the next one, or any.
Hugging his family for what would be the last time for over an entire year, Nematus convinced the group to make a quick detour through to the Golmore Jungle to say farewell to some of the Viera he had befriended over the year. Their group was met with several warning arrows, but Nematus called out, announcing that it was him. Four of the first six Viera he had first met were among this patrol, including the same 'super-Viera'. He showed them his face for confirmation, which made them relax a little bit. They were still wary of the others.
"They are monster hunters. They travel the world to hunt dangerous beasts. This is what I've been training all these years for," he said. The four that knew him: Jote, Mrjn, Krjn, and Sytk (the super-Viera), smiled, but looked sad. This was perhaps their favorite hume...no, he was Garif, they agreed. And perhaps some Viera, as he has learned some things from them as well, such as discerning the noises of the wood, Vieran calls that patrols use to communicate with each other, and some of their customs. He has yet to be allowed into the village, though they were sure he would've become trusted enough by the elders to have entrance.
Saying his farewells and promising that he'd return, even with gifts from his travels, he hugged them each goodbye, though his arms wrapped around their butts. He knew them enough to push such thoughts out of mind. After they said their goodbyes, and the Viera promised to tell everyone he wishes them well, the group left the Golmore Jungle and then left the Ozmone plains, the only things he was carrying were his mask, some of his Garif clothes, and a necklace with a magicite stone that Jote gave him, along with a bone necklace his mother made for him. He clutched both of them cherishingly as he, Cifer, and the few other clan members stepped into the Giza Plains.
A/N: And that's the second chapter of my OC's beginning. He's trained for many years and even made friends with the Viera. How will he adapt to the new places he'll see? Better yet, how will Ivalice react to the very first Garif-raised/partly Vieran tought hume? Please keep in touch with the story to find out!