Rugos Corifeu

A legend among the tribes

High up in the mountains a storm is brewing. The winds pick up and start howling through the peaks, like a sorrowfull widow's wail. Endless streams of snow fall from the heavens as the tribesmen gather around the fire in the chieftan's tent.

"This is no natural storm, said one of the wise-women of the tribe. The spirits of the mountain are angry"

Worried, the tribe looks up to their chieftan as he adresses the wrinkled woman

"What must be done, old one?"

"Such a storm has not been seen in many, many seasons. It is beyond our strength to battle the spirits. Beyond our modest means to appease them. We can only hope He will show up again."

A child, no taller than the short bows of the tribe's hunters, pulling on the wise-woman's hide, asks

"Who are you talking about Gran-Gran?"

Gently caresing the child's head, the old woman takes a moment of rememberance and starts speaking in a solemn tone
"Many years ago, my little one, long before you came into this world, a storm not unlike this one befell our small village. It lasted for days and we thought the end was upon us, that we would die, buried beneath the cold snow..."

"But then we heard the deep rumble. Thump. Thump. Thump it went. And it kept getting lowder and lowder, closer and closer, choking out the howling blizzard outside until the winds died out compleatly and only the low rhythmic thumping remained. We were all gathered here in the large tent, just like now, and we hurried outside to see what had happened."

"And there he stood, beating on his large drum, with a bone i can only imagine came from a beast twice his size. A man of the tribes unlike any i have seen before or after. And as he was beating on that bloody crimson drum, adorned with the skull of a mighty bear, the blizzard seemed to retreat away from him. And then he layed down the drum, but the beating did not stop. It was as if the winds betrayed the stormy weather to dance to this man's rhythm. As he laid down the drum, he turned towards up and we saw his big, dark, deep eyes. He was looking not at us, but not through us either. I had this strange sensation that he was looking at my soul. And my soul looked back at him. From his satchel he pulled out a small carved piece of wood and whispered something to it. Then it grew into a beautifull alphorn, milky white just as his skin was, and the man spoke with a low voice."

"Will you please join me?"

"What did you do next Gran-Gran?" The child asked full of awe and excitement.

"We all sat down in a circle around him and listened, bewitched by the sound of his music. The rhythm of the drum kept us grounded, connected with Mother Earth, while the melody of his alphorn took our spirits on a journey, high up to the Sky Father. After he was done the blizzard had gone away compleatly. He whispered into the alphorn once again and it shrinked back to the size of a stick, he took this drum and placed it on his back and left, never to be seen again by any of our village."

"Wow Gran-Gran, that was the best story ever! Im sure the music man will come once more and stop the storm! I just know it!"

Life in the cold mountaintop

Rugos was born part of the Mountain Tribes culture. A people scattered across the high plateaus and peaks of mountain ranges. They live a simple life, with a deep respect for the ways of nature.

Ever since he was a small boy he had the gift of a strong heart, capable of sensing much of the sublte energies of the world. He could easily tell how people and animals were feeling and could sense the changing of the weather.

His village held great respect for one with such gifts, being seen as a reincarnation of a great ancestor, who came back from the afterlife to guide the tribes once more. His parents could teach him little of his gift, for they were mere fishers, unknowledgable in the subject. The village elder was of little more help, never had she seend one with such a gift, only heard tales of similar individuals at the elders gathering. Rugos was happy with his life, he did not care for such stories. He loved to fish with his parents, hunt with his pears and drink mead at the campfire until the moon was high in the sky. Until a strange tribesman arrived at their village.

The man had strange tattoos on his body, depicting ferocious beasts, terrifying spirits and the faces of their gods. He carried a large drum on his side and on his back a strange triangle shaped intrument, with a short neck and three strings attached. The man's name was Diac. He came for Rugos.

Diac presented himself as one of the wandering caretakers of the tribes. A man that has the ability to sense where he is needed and the skill to aid his fellow tribesmen as best needed. The elder knew of this. Knew this day would come. Knew that the boy needed to leave with him, to learn what his soul had planned out to learn since the day he was born.

Rugos was furious. His parents would not hear his cry, they said it is a great honor to be chosen. His friends protested but their voice died out under the pressure. The elder spoke. The caretaker's wish would be granded. Rugos would become his apprentice.

The tools of balance

One is for the Earth

"Tell me Rugos, now that you have heard me many times play the drum, tell me what you think of it."

"What do you mean?" Even after a year of traveling with Diac, in the young man's voice you could still hear hints of anger and irritation.

"Have you come to understand it's purpose?" The older man asked with a foxy inquisitive look upon his face.

"You cast some sort of spell with it...it's calming, for the nerves i mean. Sometimes i get the feeling that time stops in place and my mind is drained of thoughts.

"It's not exactly a spell, but you are close to the truth. You see, the drum is the instrument of grounding. It imitates Mother Earth's heartbeat. That heartbeat is healing your body, mind and spirit. It cleanses it of all impurities. When the drum is played with the heart Mother Earth feels it and comes to your aid. The Earth feeds on all that is vile for you, it has the ability to transform that negative energy into positive energy. Turn fear into courage, hate into love, death into new life. We, the caretakers, must drain the wickedness from our tribesmen's hearts and souls, give it to the Earth and let the Earth transform it. The drum is the means to acomplish this feat.

"So will i get my own drum someday?"

"Someday you will...but for now, you will start practicing with mine."

"Really?" The boy's eyes started glimmering with excitement

"Yes, it is time you learn this."

Diac handed him his mallet and drum. The boy had a good idea of what to do, he saw Diac play many times before.

"The fire is dying down. I will go fetch more wood, leave you to it. Remember, listen not with the ears, but with you soul, and play not with the mallet but with your heart. Listen for the Earth's heartbeat, try to match its rhythm. Play from the heart to match its sound. You will know you are on the right path when you feel Mother Earth's embrace. And when I feel it too, trough you, you will have succeded."

One is for the Sky

A couple more years have passed since Rugos started learning the way of the drum. He could now perform the Earth ritual on his own, curing the tribesmen of their guilt, sorrow and anger. And it also cured him. His hatred for Diac was no more, he now gladly followed him, he had accepted his path in life, the path of the Caretaker. Seeing this, Diac knew that the time had come. The time to move on to the next chapter. To learn the way of the Sky.

"Where are we going again?"

"On the Shattered Ice path. Into the cave of a thousand winds. There we shall find the path to the Sky Father's Peak."

In their travels Rugos had heard tales of this place. The legends speak of spirits pledged to the Sky Father that make their home up on the Peak.

"And what awaits us there?"

"I cannot say. Every Caretaker must make this journey, and every Caretaker encounters something else up there. What awaits you there is meant only for you."

Even for one that has lived a life of survival in the hard wilderness, the road up to the Peak was arduous. A test in itself, Rugos thought to himself. He would not be swayed, he would keep pushing forward. He now belived truly in his path. His heart told him so, and he listened.

Upon the last flight of stairs, hidden inside the thousand winds cave, they set camp.

"I still dont like it. Why wait? The Peak is just within reach, we have toiled up this path just to stop now?" Rugos said with a fire in his eyes.

"Do not rush, young one. There is wisdom in fighting a battle well rested, and there is wisdom that I must share with you before you go up there"

Diac started playing his triangular stringed instrument, a balalaika, as he called it. It was rare that he played it. Rugos sensed in him that Diac was one more attuned to the Earth, to the low vibration of the drum, but that is not to say that Diac played poorly on his balalaika. On the contrary. It was as if the sky opened up and showered him and all that would hear his tune in bright golden light, inspiring and empowering them.

"You never told me the tale of this instrument, Diac" Rugos said in a hushed tone, not to disturb his mentor from his playing.

Without a pause Diac started to sing with his voice over the melody of the strings.

"Once I was a little man, not much else than you
I loved to dance and sing and fight, no chores I had to do!"
Me and my old teacher, well, we rode the mountains cold
And when we found a village we caroused and then we strolled!

But then one day my mentor took me high upon these peaks
He sang a song much like this and kissed me on the cheeks
He said "Diac now don't fear nor fret, up there you'll find the path!"
The Sky will test you and will grant a voice you had not hath!

With a furious long lasted strumming at the end the song was done.

"Rugos, up there you will find your voice. Father Sky demands that each of us bring beauty to this world, each in his own way. Try not to copy what i do. The balalaika is mine and mine alone, you must find your own path now."

Rugos went up the flight of stairs, his heart beating wildly. As he stepped up on the last stair his sight grew dark. His ears could hear no sound, his nose could not smell the cold anymore and his skin felt like it had melted away. In a panic he started running, but he could get nowhere, for the was nowhere to go. He tried to pinch himself but there was no more self to speak of. Only a fragment of consiousness in a great deep void.
And then he felt it. Like something watching him. Stalking. Preying. Even though he had no back to speak of that is where he sensed the presence looming. Getting closer and closer. He felt the murderous intent, the bloodlust in its heart. As his fear griped his heart ever more tightly, Rugos wanted nothing more than to turn and face his attacker.
Out of the very core of his being he unleashed a bellowing roar, shaking the very foundation of the void he was trapped in. This roar dispelled the darkness from his eyes, the deaftness of his ears and the numbness of his skin. He then found himself face to face with a great shining light.

"Ah...the breath of your lungs you have chosen, and what great breath indeed. Very well then, i shall grant you a great horn, made from the wood of the trees that grow in my home. May it serve you well in bringing new beauty to this world"

And just like that it all ended. Rugos found himself standing just in front of the last stair up to this peak. And at his feet lay a small white piece of wood, carved in the shape of an alphorn. He knew that it was his. A gift from the Sky Father.

One path ends. Another begins

Starstruck by the view of the mountains draped in all manner of oranges from the setting Sun, Rugos laid there watching, meditating on what had just transpired. He wished Diac was here with him, to see this great wonder. But in his heart he knew...

Back down the stairs, into the cave, the fire was crackling, Diac's drum rested on the cold floor, but Diac was no more. He had left, his mission complete, another Caretaker born into this world.
Rugos understood, he had no resentment in his heart. Diac was needed elsewhere, he needed to follow his own path. His last gift, his crimson red bone dragon drum. No mallet in sight though...a final task for Rugos.

And thus Rugos roamed the mountaintops, from village to village, helping the tribesmen as needed. Following the path as it was laid in front of him.

Age

42

Eyes

Inky black, big and round

Hair

Bald

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

Milky white, smooth