Uldinor

Discussion in 'Accepted Characters' started by Darth_Slaverus, Sep 22, 2017.

  1. Darth_Slaverus

    Darth_Slaverus Member vet

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    Name: Uldinor of the Zaguraht

    Age: 30

    Race: Sea Zora

    Gender: Male

    Place of Origin: Zora's Domain

    P3/W5/C1

    Rupees: 0

    Treasures:

    Amphibious (Innate)

    Zora Weakness (Innate)

    Magic Proficiency (Racial)

    Electric Aura (Racial)

    Specialty: Summon (Racial)

    Familiar (-40 Magic Proficiency Rupees)

    Combat Companion: Bok, the Life-Like (50 Rupees)

    Summon Like-Like (20 Rupees)

    Wall of Hazards (Wall of Tentacles base form, 30 Rupees)

    Height: 6’0

    Weight: 176 Ibs.

    Equipment: Soulglutton*, sacrificial knife, pouches, spellbook

    Soulglutton: A ceremonial mace traditionally wielded by the Zaguraht's most senior shaman, Soulglutton is as much of a badge of office for Uldinor as it is an armament. The head of the weapon has been fashioned to resemble a Like-Like, and strange sigils are etched along its length. According to Zaguraht myth, the spirits of those slain by the mace are forfeit; instead of the afterlife, the souls are sent to the Devourer, to be feasted upon by her Like-Like brood.

    Residence: Uldinor occupies a modest hut within the Zaguraht tribe's main settlement, located in western Moruge. His home doubles as a shrine to the Devourer, and numerous rock cairns arranged in the shape of Like-Likes surround the hut.

    Pet: Bok, an ill-tempered Life-Like that Uldinor has nonetheless managed to tame. Believed to be a spawn of the massive Devourer, Bok has proven an invaluable asset to Uldinor, warding off assassination attempts and serving as his personal war-beast.

    Appearance:

    [​IMG]
    *

    From a distance, Uldinor seems a fairly ordinary Zora, being tall and lean, with sky blue scales. A protrusion akin to a shark's fin extends from the back of his head, and he walks with a slightly wobbling gait, as if unsure how to maneuver on land. Like all Zaguraht warriors, he eschews the use of a shield, preferring to swing his mace two-handed, and as a result his arms are disproportionately thick compared to the rest of his body.

    Up close, however, it becomes clear that Uldinor is anything but ordinary. Years of tribal warfare and ritual scarification have left his physique and face a virtual museum of old wounds. His clean-shaven countenance is particularly disfigured, bearing many scars, yet his most striking feature are his large, pitch-black eyes, which some might describe as soulless, betraying absolutely no emotion. As if to hint at a greater significance to this trait, the scales surrounding his eyes are curiously pristine, completely free of injury.

    For clothing, Uldinor wears a greenish-brown robe cobbled together from boiled Like-Like hide; because hunting Like-Likes is taboo among the Zaguraht, these hides can only be harvested from those that have died of natural causes or have been slain by outsiders. As a result, such garments are rare and tend to be viewed as signs of great prestige within the tribe, and Uldinor's robe is no exception, befitting his role as the Zaguraht's high priest. His boots are even more gruesome, being composed of Lizalfos scales- the sole remains of an unlucky chieftain Uldinor personally eviscerated. An array of pouches made from the inflated bladders of swamp creatures dangle from the simple cord belt that adorns his waist, hanging alongside his old spellbook. This aged tome has been repurposed as his own personal prayer book, its worn pages now filled with rambling sermons and hastily scrawled runes.

    *A big thanks to Inky for this amazing art!
    Personality:

    Irreparably scarred by a series of near-death experiences in the Moruge Swamp, Uldinor is a thoroughly deranged madman. He has come to revere Like-Likes as holy beings, viewing them as the divine embodiment of the most basic urge that drives all living things: hunger. Unfortunately, his bizarre fascination with these ravenous creatures is far from harmless, as he feels compelled to orchestrate unspeakable blood sacrifices in order to appease his newfound god, a particularly large specimen that he has dubbed “The Great Devourer.” Believing that all life exists to provide sustenance for the Devourer and that those who do not offer themselves in servitude to his cult must instead be offered as a meal, Uldinor takes a sadistic joy in snatching unbelievers from their homes to feed to his bestial lord.

    However, despite his insanity, Uldinor is an elusive figure. He understands that most civilized societies in Hyrule would reject his religion on principle, and thus works in secret to further his aims. Adopting the guise of a wildlife researcher or a practitioner of an obscure ascetic lifestyle, Uldinor infiltrates communities in order to undermine rival faiths and procure victims for upcoming sacrifices. Due to his academic background, he is confident and well-spoken, making him rather adept at deceiving others. Yet when unmasked for the psychotic zealot he truly is, Uldinor does not shy from combat, fighting with a fanatical fervour that belies his unassuming frame. His ultimate goal is to spread his dark teachings to every corner of Hyrule, and refuses to let anything stand in the way of this lofty pursuit.

    Among his debased followers, Uldinor is regarded as a prophet of the apocalypse. He preaches that soon the world will quite literally be consumed by the Devourer and its spawn, and that only the faithful will be spared. Denouncing all other gods as pretenders, Uldinor often uses his sorcery to perform “miracles,” claiming that his powers are a gift from the Devourer itself and therefore proof of its divinity. He encourages the more magically inclined members of his cult to do likewise, ordaining them as priests.

    Having lived as a Sea Zora among River Zoras, Uldinor is conditioned to be wary and slow to trust, but he is equally quick to reward loyalty. He can be almost paternal in his interactions with his disciples, lending a sympathetic ear and providing guidance when needed, even as he makes heinous demands of them.

    Perhaps unsurprisingly, Uldinor is an avid proponent of using haruspicy to divine the future- as the innards are vital to digestion, he sees them as sacred.


    Biography:

    Of all the River Zora tribes that inhabit Moruge Swamp, the Zaguraht are one of the most feared, due in no small part to the fact that they are also among the least understood. An aggressive, expansionist people, they are known to be cruel in victory, feasting upon the flesh of their vanquished foes and their own fallen alike, whilst offering live captives as sacrifices to an enormous Like-Like which has made its nest within their ancestral hunting grounds. The shamans of the Zaguraht revere this Like-Like as a deity, believing it to be the true successor to Jabun, and this odd religion is reflected in many aspects of their culture, setting them apart from neighbouring tribes. Their clothing and weaponry are often decorated with images of the voracious beasts, and eerie totems depicting Like-Likes stacked atop one another dominate the landscape in any area where the Zaguraht hold sway.

    Most curious of all, however, is the fact that the Zaguraht's chief authority on spiritual matters is not of their own race. To the utter bafflement of outsiders, it is a Sea Zora who leads the Zaguraht in their vile worship.

    Uldinor's exact origins are a mystery. The topic is taboo among his disciples, and the shadowy demagogue himself is usually silent on the subject. From what little he has divulged, it can be surmised that he was once a scholar of some small repute within the Zora's Domain, dedicated to the study of summoning magics. What possessed him to travel to the Moruge Swamp remains unclear.

    What is certain is that Uldinor first came to the Zaguraht a prisoner, one of a handful of survivors from a skirmish between a Sea Zora military expedition and the Zaguraht. Humbled and beaten by their River Zora cousins, the hapless band of soldiers had been placed in chains and paraded around the Zaguraht's village in front of jeering tribesmen, before being marched atop a raised dais and shoved into the waiting maw of the Zaguraht's Like-Like god, much to the savage delight of the onlookers.

    The Sea Zoras were not so enthused by their impending doom, realizing that their comrades who had died in battle had been the most fortunate of their company. Many were reduced to gibbering wrecks at the mere sight of the massive Like-Like, begging, pleading for mercy... and inevitably receiving none as they were tossed to their deaths.

    Placed at the back of the line by the capricious whims of fate, Uldinor was forced to watch the unfolding horror the longest, the screams of his companions echoing within the recesses of his mind.

    When at last it was his turn to be sacrificed, Uldinor fell to his knees and cried out for salvation. First he entreated Jabu-Jabu for aid, then the Golden Goddesses. When neither answered his prayers, he gazed upon the terrible Like-Like and pledged to serve it for all eternity, screaming that he would pay any price if it meant being spared the fate of his comrades. As he made this dire proclamation, Uldinor called upon the last of his magical energy, unwittingly conjuring his Familiar- an arcane entity that took the form of a spectral Like-Like, much to the awe of the Zaguraht.

    Outraged by what they perceived as the gravest of heresies, two of the River Zora warriors advanced to slay Uldinor on the spot, only to be stopped by the gnarled hand of the Zaguraht's eldest shaman, who had moved to block their path. A superstitious sort, the old River Zora viewed the summoning as an auspicious portent, a sign of favour from his god. If there was even the remotest possibility that this Sea Zora had been chosen by the Like-Like, he declared, it had to be explored. He turned to Uldinor, and asked him if his promise to serve the Like-Like had been sincere. Desperate to delay his impending digestion, Uldinor frantically reaffirmed his pledge, prostrating himself before the wizened River Zora.

    Then, the shaman told him, he would be tested. And if he failed, he would die.

    The first trial commenced immediately. Hauled before the tribe's war leaders, Uldinor was ordered to divulge the location of the Sea Zoras' nearest encampment, as well as their patrol routes, so that the Zaguraht could launch an attack that would cripple their operations in the area. The enormity of such a betrayal would prove an ideal measure of Uldinor's commitment. Of course, the Zaguraht were not blind to the possibility that Uldinor might use deception to lead them into a trap, and so they imposed an additional condition: The contingent of warriors dispatched would be small, and if they were repulsed or failed to report back at the appointed hour, Uldinor would be tortured and sacrificed. This, they claimed, was a fair exchange- if he fed them false information, he would be fed to the Like-Like.

    Fearful of the gruesome death that awaited him if he refused to cooperate, Uldinor told them everything and more- their numbers, their tactics, the layout of the outpost- all were laid bare by the Sea Zora's terror. Seemingly satisfied by his answers, the Zaguraht commanders set to planning, and Uldinor was taken to a small, dingy hut, to be held under guard until the raiding party returned.

    Denied even the most basic of comforts- no meals, no water, not even a place to sit, chained to the wall as he was- Uldinor began to lose track of time. How many hours had passed? Days? Weeks, even? He wasn't sure. A vague sense of guilt gnawed at him, but all he could think about was survival. No man should have to endure what he had, he thought, anything was permissible as long as it meant not dying like the others.

    At last, the Zaguraht warband returned, and Uldinor was dragged from his cell to hear the result. A successful raid! Whooping River Zoras had formed a procession before the assembled tribesmen, boasting of scores of slaughtered Sea Zoras, proudly displaying the grisly trophies they had taken as proof of their brutality. He had passed his test. Uldinor might well have celebrated alongside the Zaguraht, had he not spied what else the raiders had brought back to the settlement.

    A living, breathing Sea Zora. A captive, like him.

    Without warning, Uldinor was pushed forward, and the warriors parted to form a ring around the two Sea Zoras. Freed from his bonds by unseen fingers, Uldinor found himself face-to-face with the Zaguraht's elder shaman, who pressed a gleaming knife into his hand.

    It was one thing to stab your own in the back as Uldinor had, the old River Zora explained, but it was another to stab them in the front, to look them in the eyes as you murdered them. He bid Uldinor kill his kinsman. If he did not, he would die. If he gave the other Sea Zora a swift, painless death, he would die.

    Thus began the second trial.

    The prisoner's eyes widened in disbelief as Uldinor advanced on him. At first he called out to the mage, recognizing him, thinking him a brother-in-arms. His confused questions soon turned to cries of horror as Uldinor strode unflinchingly toward him and raised the dagger.

    Coward. Traitor. Betrayer. Monster. Madman. Uldinor's counterpart gave him a new name after each thrust, but the aspiring summoner did not relent, knocking his victim to the ground and plunging the knife into his breast. Why couldn't he understand, Uldinor wondered as he savaged the body. The fool had been dead the moment the Zaguraht had captured him. If Uldinor had shown mercy, they would both have died. At least this way, one of them would live.

    It was neither a quick nor a clean death, but eventually the deed was done. Breathing heavily, Uldinor rose from the bloodied corpse, dropping the knife to the ground. At once, the elder shaman was by his side, placing a hand upon his shoulder. As if on cue, the Sea Zora's stomach growled, and the River Zora smiled. There was one final lesson to learn.

    Ever since their founding as a tribe, the Zaguraht had worshipped Like-Likes, viewing them as the embodiment of the one force that no warrior, no matter how mighty, could hope to best: Hunger. Was it not Hunger that built civilizations? Was it not Hunger that drove societies, be they nomadic or sedentary, to bountiful hunting grounds and fertile soils? Believing there to be power in these revelations, the Zaguraht prayed to these voracious creatures and strove to emulate them. What other races thought the basest of instincts, the Zaguraht considered the highest of callings, deeming the satiation of their hunger a holy act. Thus did the Zaguraht dine upon the flesh of the dead. And any who would call themselves kin to the Zaguraht must also partake...

    Having imparted this wisdom, the shaman's grip tightened. Uldinor's task was clear.

    Thus began the third trial.

    In that moment, whatever small part remained of Uldinor's former self died. What had begun as a pathetic attempt to save his own scales had become something more, something twisted. Perhaps it was the only way he could face his sins, by convincing himself that there was truth in the shaman's words and therefore his actions were justified. Or perhaps his scholarly mind was actually persuaded by the perverse logic of the Zaguraht's philosophy. Or maybe he was simply swayed by the fact that it had been unbearably long since his last meal. Whatever the case, Uldinor did not doubt or question. He heard, he acknowledged, and he obeyed.

    He knelt, and feasted.

    In the aftermath of this atrocity, Uldinor stood, and was embraced by the old River Zora. In this sanguinary crucible, he had been reborn. Over the course of the next several days, he was integrated into the Zaguraht's spiritual caste, learning their ways and rites under the elder shaman's tutelage. His newfound mentor was not a gentle teacher, and the training was often painful, but he grew stronger for it. His devotion swelled with each passing hour, and soon he was known one of the most fervent of the elder's disciples. He was truly a Zaguraht.

    At least in theory.

    The reality was different. Though his depravity had won him some small respect from the tribe, the bulk of the River Zoras still distrusted him. In particular, the other shamans, who frequently jockeyed for power and influence at the foot of the elder, despised him for occupying the attention of their master. Even in his madness, Uldinor knew that the old River Zora's patronage was the only thing shielding him from a knife in the back.

    To make matters worse, the consequences of Uldinor's initiation were not limited to the Zaguaht alone. Upon hearing of this development, two of the River Zora tribes closest to the Zaguraht declared war on them, believing their "acceptance" of a Sea Zora to be a sign of weakness and a betrayal of Jabun's memory. While the Zaguraht were altogether too happy to answer the call to battle, Uldinor was still blamed for this outbreak of hostilities. As the catalyst for the conflict, all eyes turned to him for a solution.

    Eager to dispel the questions surrounding his loyalty, Uldinor took to the field, using the rituals he had been taught to call forth Like-Likes, inspiring the Zaguraht warriors and hindering their foes. Then, spear in hand, he would rush the enemy lines, putting his innate Electric Aura to good use in the savage hand-to-hand fighting between the tribes. He fought furiously, and although he was wounded many times, he acquitted himself well. But the Zaguraht were outnumbered, and they slowly began to lose ground against the invaders, stretched thin by the constant attacks on their territory. Defeat seemed as inevitable as the hunger they worshipped.

    Yet in this direst of situations, Uldinor saw opportunity. He approached the elder shaman in the dead of night, proposing a daring plan that only he could see realized. If successful, this plot was certain to turn the tides of the conflict. The old River Zora listened, then nodded, granting his student leave to carry out the plot.

    The following day, Uldinor set out from the Zaguraht village, making his way to one of the largest Sea Zora bases in the region. Presenting himself as a recently escaped prisoner, Uldinor revealed his scars and told the soldiers stationed there the tale of his capture... only instead of the Zaguraht, he attributed this cruelty to their rivals, claiming that during his captivity he had learned that the two tribes had formed an alliance for the express purpose of launching a larger offensive against the Sea Zoras. He could have told the truth, of course. They would have taken pity on him, granted him clemency.

    He did not care. He had found a god worth believing in.

    To aid this trickery, the elder shaman had dispatched what few warriors the Zaguraht could spare to strike at the Sea Zoras throughout Moruge, bearing the colours and totems of their rivals. These false flag attacks, combined with Uldinor's seeming sincerity, served to convince the garrison commander, who promised to exact vengeance for Uldinor and his fallen comrades. Uldinor smiled and thanked him, waving off any additional offers of help, insisting that he only required a single guard to escort him home to Lake Hylia.

    The instant they were out of earshot, Uldinor slit his escort's throat and slipped away to report his success to the Zaguraht.

    True to his word, the commander ordered a preemptive assault upon the two tribes, deploying a sizable force to their territories. Caught off-guard, the River Zoras scrambled to meet their new foe, and a fierce struggle broke out. Only when they had exhausted themselves fighting each other was the trap sprung. Wounded and weary, the combatants were ill-prepared for the appearance of a third army in the form of the Zaguraht, who quickly surrounded their enemies and slaughtered them en masse. This catastrophic turn of events ultimately resulted in the destruction of the two rival tribes; with so many of their warriors killed, they could do little to stop the Zaguraht as their villages were plundered and their lands claimed.

    When at last the dust had settled, Uldinor found himself the man of the hour. He had fought and bled alongside the best of the Zaguraht. Not once, but twice he had betrayed his own kind for their sake, even when he had clear opportunity and motive to turn on the tribe. His ingenuity had carried the day. And most of all, he had a curious affinity for Like-Likes, conjuring them with ease where lesser shamans faltered. A great banquet was held in celebration of the victory, and Uldinor was afforded a seat of honour. Finally, it seemed, he had overcome the barrier of his birth and earned his place within the tribe.

    Yet despite the general feelings of jubilation, not all were pleased by Uldinor's ascension. Though the Zaguraht had benefited from the war, staunch traditionalists grumbled about how swift their peers were to forget that it was Uldinor's presence that had started the fighting. That very night, as Uldinor excused himself from the feast in order to gaze upon his deity, one of them made an attempt on his life, confronting him with a blade.

    The assassin had chosen his moment poorly, however, for the elder shaman stumbled upon the scene, having been on his way to meditate before the Like-Like himself. The old mage immediately tried to intervene, not wishing to see his star apprentice murdered, and the ensuing commotion attracted attention. The tribe's warriors arrived in time to see the would-be killer fatally stab the elder, his desperation driving him to do the unthinkable, before Uldinor violently tackled him to the ground. With his dying breath, the elder shaman proclaimed that Uldinor had been Chosen by the Like-Likes, citing the great piety he had demonstrated under his tutelage, and urged the tribe to accept him as his successor.

    This shocking announcement was unprecedented. Not even Uldinor had foreseen such an occurrence. Thinking on his feet, he addressed the tribe, telling them that while he would not disrespect the elder's wishes, nor would he assume the mantle until the Zaguraht deemed him truly worthy of the title. To his surprise, most of the tribe were amenable to this arrangement- the slaying of the elder had thoroughly discredited the traditionalist faction, which had already been depleted by the war, and some had begun to wonder if Uldinor, who had accomplished much in his relatively short time with the tribe, was more deserving of loyalty than the veterans who hated him. Still, the Sea Zora remained aware of just how tenuous his position was, and rather than fan the flames of discontent toward the traditionalists, he implored the tribe not to descend into petty infighting, stressing the importance of unity in the wake of this tragedy. The Zaguraht heeded his counsel, and for a time, life returned to normal.

    Naturally, the assassin was thrown into the waiting maw of the Zaguraht's god for his crime.

    Now freed from his apprenticeship by the death of his teacher, Uldinor turned his mind to tribal politics. He sorely needed allies for the days ahead. To consolidate his power, the wily Sea Zora pressed for a series of reforms to the tribe's faith, exploiting the tribe's grief over the loss of their senior shaman. Under his direction, the Zaguraht's shamanistic belief system would be transformed into an evangelical cult, with a focus on converting others to the cause. The other shamans would form the basis of the new clergy, creating a council of priests to advise Uldinor, each wielding considerably more influence than he or she had before. This, he argued, would serve to curtail any blasphemy by giving the Zaguraht's spiritual leaders the authority they deserved, a necessary step given the murder of the elder.

    Thus did Uldinor appease a number of his most vocal detractors, the shamans, who rather liked the idea that they were to be obeyed above all else. Many of the regular Zaguraht warriors were also pleased by this more aggressive interpretation of their faith- what better way to demonstrate their tribe's superiority than by dominating their enemies and forcing them to adopt the Zaguraht's ways?

    Riding the wave of popular support, Uldinor established his cult, naming their god "The Great Devourer, She-Who-Hungers," fostering fanaticism with increasingly passionate sermons. Swept up in a tide of religious fervour, the Zaguraht readied themselves for war. Once they had recovered from the previous conflict, they embarked upon a campaign of conquest, challenging not only other Zoras, but the Lizalfos and Mad Scrub clans as well, gaining a reputation as a tribe not to be trifled with. Although Uldinor was not the sole instigator of these crusades, he played no small role in waging them, using his keen strategic mind to outwit the Zaguraht's foes.

    Several years vanished in the blink of an eye, as did many of the Zaguraht's enemies, swallowed up by their ruthless expansion.

    Each victory brought its own rewards. Slaves, sacrifices, resources, meat (or vegetables, in the Mad Scrubs' case). Uldinor occasionally participated in the bloodshed, but more often he carried out matters of spiritual import: The sacrificial rituals, the construction of monuments, the reeducation of those slaves deemed fit to live. In doing so, he cemented his rise to prominence within the tribe, and in time the title of high priest was bestowed upon him, as the elder shaman had foretold. On the day of his coronation, he stood atop the dais where he had once been an offering, and beheld the Devourer.

    Meditating on the sight of her heaving mass, the sound of her squelching, and the smell of the charnel scent that accompanied their latest sacrifice, Uldinor's heart skipped a beat. At last, he had found his calling, and he would not rest until all knew of his god. A new hunger had awoken within him, a raw ambition that would only be slaked by power. Though the Zaguraht had carved out a small empire of sorts in western Moruge, they remained a people divided: The indignant traditionalists still opposed Uldinor and his faithful, yearning for the old ways. They did not move against him, for fear of committing sacrilege and thereby alienating the tribe, but neither could Uldinor dispose of them, lest his actions be seen as a blatant attempt to seize control of the Zaguraht.

    In truth, he longed to do just that, yet the question of how to attain the legitimacy such an endeavour would require hung heavy in the air.

    The answer came to him in an instant.

    Hyrule.

    For generations, the disenfranchised races of the continent had beaten themselves bloody against Hylian walls. But perhaps subterfuge could succeed where brute force had failed. If he could accomplish that which no Zaguraht, living or dead, had accomplished, they would have no choice but to accept him as their undisputed leader, his heritage be damned. The thought excited him, and he set to plotting.

    The so-called civilized nations of the world beyond had grown fat on their meaningless decadence. What better meal would there be for She-Who-Hungered?
    Last edited: Mar 3, 2024
  2. Cloud

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