Kaolin (/ka͡o.lin/)
Nowadays
Kaolin is the Head of Arcane Research at the Royal University of Obafen (literal meaning in Obafenian : Central Scholar of Ancient Eastern Languages). Kaolin has about two dozen scholars under his command, even though the official title of his department gives him the liberty to study any defunct language of the Eastern Continent, he is a man of singular purpose: deciphering the arcane equations, or that’s what he wants everyone to believe. On his own time Kaolin prefers to use his existing knowledge of the arcane to devise his own equations and conduct bolder and bolder experiments.
Backstory
“Obsession. When a man casts away his pride and principles in search of something, we call it an obsession. Kaolin has always veiled his desire in the guise of honest research, but in my years, I’ve never met one so cunning.” – Hiraethei, former Head of Arcane Research at the Royal University of Obafen.Born the middle child of a rich clothier, Kaolin was a sickly-looking boy, with thin long limbs, wavy dark hair and eyes that made people uncomfortable by how they seemed to judge others every move. Kaolin’s family sold clothes, but in order to get an edge, they’d purchase cotton and linen from Olon'tak in order to make clothes in fashion that would impress the people of Obafen.
When Kaolin’s mother, Malaena, died of an unknown sickness during the early years of his childhood, the young boy seemed constantly uninterested in the matters of his family’s trade, often opting to look dumb or bored when interacting with his father or brothers. Due to Malaena’s death, his father, the stern Jaelin, began to treat him and his brothers differently. The older and dull Tailin, who was already a teenager by the time of their mother’s death, was overloaded with responsibilities, for his father believed that he’d be the one to take over the family’s business in case something happened to Jaelin. In contrast, Jaelin constantly doted on the giddy and naive Kaeman, who was still but too young to understand the weight of responsibilities.
But it was all different with Kaolin, for the boy reminded Jaelin too much of his late wife Malaena. He had the same fragile body, soft and pale skin, large eyes that had given Malaena the characteristics of a silver pheasant: Beautiful, elegant and refined. Although, when looking at his son, Jaelin could only see the shadow of an ugly little fledgling bird, with a constant look of superiority, cloaked by an expression of boredom. Jaelin could not endure the remembrance of Malaena when he stared at Kaolin’s face, thus he avoided interacting with his second child as much as he could, sometimes taking out his grief and anger at him in forms of physical and psychological punishment.
And so, knowing full well how despised he was by his father, Kaolin could have wasted his life on shallow pursuits, for he was not expected to take over his family’s business as a clothier. Matter of fact, Kaolin always felt undesired, as he’d watch Jaelin teaching Tailin about sales, pricing, haggling and showering Kaeman with gifts, kindness, and love.Therefore, unbeknownst to his siblings, Kaolin hated his everyday life. And moreover, he hated his family for living a boring life feeding off the aesthetical greed of those interested in purchasing the clothes his family produced. Or rather, their badly paid workers produced. Having deep ties with the market in Olon’tak, their family has utilized the fashion of the barren lands to give a sense of exotic imagery to their overpriced goods and so, rising to the condition of a wealthy house of merchants. Being born in such a family, Kaolin lived in the middle of undesired responsibilities, afloat in a world he cared little about. That was until he heard of the mysteries that laid in the world of the Arcane Arts.
Record of Younger Days
It’s a very hot day as the scorching suns make no compromise when smiling upon the heads of the citizens procuring wares at the Central Market of Obafen. There is a cacophony of sounds caused by a storm of voices that went from the yells of the market criers announcing deals, shady men peddling equally shady goods, cheerful merchants engaging in bargaining, to the whispers of the beggars who needed so little to survive just another day. Inside a prestigious clothes store, a young boy, not shy from the starting years of his teenage life, works as a simple cashier. The boy sighs as he looks upon the sea of customers that move in an orderly manner along the clean and even streets of the Market. He rests his head on his arms and mutters:
“— I don’t believe it can get any hotter than this. Elder brother must have lied when he told me we are blessed to not deal with Olon’tak’s heat.”
That boy is Kaolin. He’s dressed in elegant clothes for someone so young, a plaid vest and a silk shirt, combined with shorts and boots. Kaolin has pitch black hair that flowed in uneven wavy locks, giving him an unkempt look along a long nose and big hazel brown eyes. Those features combined with his thin body and white skin, give him the aspect of a fledgling bird. A far cry from a handsome man, but the boy doesn’t seem to care much.
“— Maybe you’d feel a bit better if you moved around instead of pretending to sleep on the job. Our father would be pleased to see you show interest in something, brother.”
That deep voice comes from the stout Tailin, a hirsute young man with the visage of a sturdy bear, much like their father, from whom Tailin inherited his full beard, thick and spiked hair and a large chest that give both men a strong commanding aura. Kaolin doesn’t like Tailin, but doesn't hate him either. A simple man could only live a simple life, so he believes the older brother to be just another cog in the grand Obafenian machine. A role fitting for such a crude individual.
Kaolin gasps as he notices his comments were being overheard by his brother. “— I wasn’t. I mean, I was just… I didn’t mean it…” The boy’s voice fades as he had no good answer to give. He looks up to meet his brother’s gaze, in a clear attempt to charm his way into forgiveness.
“— You are incorrigible Kaolin. Does nothing in life interest you? Father could have taken you on the trips to Olon’tak if you only showed any maturity.” says Tailin.
“— It's not my fault! All we ever do is sell clothes! How could I ever be interested in such peasant work, I- “ The boy’s words are silenced by a swift backhanded slap to the face. Kaolin realizes he’s gone too far, when he notices his brother’s eyes, bloodshot with rage and disgust.
“— This peasant work, you call” says Tailin with every spoken syllable carrying spit and disgust alike. “— Is what makes our lineage so prosperous! This is the work of our great grandfathers, you ungrateful little…” Tailin balls his hand into a fist, truly wishing to strike his brother with might, until he hears a childish voice.
“— Why are you fighting again, brothers?” It was the meek voice of Kaeman, the youngest of the three brothers. “— Please don’t hurt Kaolin again, big brother.” says Kaeman as he runs and hugs the middle child’s waist.
Kaeman is only 3 years younger than Kaolin, but looked as if they were 6 to 8 years apart in age. While Kaolin was thin and tall, with birdlike body proportions due to his long legs, Kaeman was small and round. The spitting image of a rich merchant’s son. As Kaeman bursts into tears, crying for the brothers to stop fighting. Kaolin successfully hides his mischievous smile, the face of someone used to hide behind his younger brother’s naivety to escape punishment. But this victory is short-lived as he hears the heavy steps of his father on the wooden floor of their shop.
“— Tailin! What is this madness that I hear all the way across my shop? Why is Kaeman crying?” Jaelin’s voice is fire and thunder, strong and powerful as the sea in a storm.
“— I’ve done nothing, Father! Tailin just-“ Tries to yell the scared Kaolin.
“— Silence, boy! I have not spoken to you. Your brother will answer me and if you dare shout at me again, I’ll have you whipped." Speaks Jaelin with cold rage as reaches the place of the commotion and brings his children inside the shop, to avoid further tarnishing his image with yet another siblings’ quarrel.
As they’re being brought inside, dragged by the collar of their shirts, with young Kaeman following behind them, Tailin’s smirk shows Kaolin the sign that something bad is to come and Kaolin will have no way of escaping it. The elder sibling wastes no time and says:
“— Kaolin was stealing from the shop. I saw it and stopped him, father. It seems he doesn’t wish to do such peasant work.” The last words spoken are full of incredible loathing.
“— I stopped him and delivered proper punishment, but it seems he won’t ever learn. He’s using Kaeman as a shield, see? This boy has no honor.” Says Tailin, pleased with himself when Kaolin notices he had unconsciously posed Kaeman as a shield in front of him.
Kaolin could see the sky from a square skylight on the roof. Those lucky old suns shine through the lazy clouds as if mocking him. He’s lying on the floor, after another “disciplinary lesson” from his father. Jaelin cleans the sweat from his face with his arm, for it is indeed a very hot day, and says:
“— The things you make me do, boy. When your mother died, I promised her I’d take care of the three of you, but you leave me no choice.” The large man sighs. “— Since you never had the spark for sales, I thought that maybe something different could give you a way in life. The Royal family has graced us with an invitation to the Royal University for one of our children. I had chosen you, but.” Jaelin looks upon Kaolin's surprised face. “— I have changed my mind. I could take all your complaining and talking. But a thief is a disgrace to our family… you’ll make your mother cry from her grave, boy. I can’t have you doing whatever you want anymore, so I’ll send Kaeman instead. You’ll stay and you’ll learn even if that’s the last damned thing I’ll make you do.”
The large man leaves the room with a broken-spirited Kaolin on the ground. For the very first time he cries with true sadness. All he ever wanted was a chance to escape this life of loathing and boredom and they took it from him. They took it all. The boy stands up and notices a pair of eyes creeping from a half-opened door to the backroom, Kaeman’s eyes.
“— I’m sorry brother. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I know you didn’t steal but… . I don’t wanna go against elder brother Tailin. I’m so sorry.” Says the little Kaeman.Kaolin spits fresh blood on the floor, feeling the taste of iron in his mouth, and mutters “— It is fine, Kaeman. I know you had no choice.” The young man’s voice has suddenly changed. It has the intensity of a true man. Kaolin gazes upon his younger sibling and he knows. They didn’t all take everything from him, he did. And Kaolin would take it back. “— Kaeman, why don’t I show you how to work the spinning wheel?” and Kaeman’s smile glows as he agrees to follow the brother he loves so much.
In the years to come, Kaolin would manage to get himself sent to the Royal University, to study the newest techniques in the development of fabrics and machinery to aid the production of high quality clothes. Although, the young man would not find himself satisfied in abiding by Obafenian customs of following the trade of his family. He reached the Royal University, but was still bound by the treads of his highly conservative society.
That would eventually change, when new explorations around the barren lands of the west would show signs of lost Vatashian ruins nearby, proving true to one old tale told by Kaolin’s father, of his great grandfather who had gone missing in that region long ago. Leveraging the fact that his family had more clues about the whereabouts of such ruins, Kaolin appealed to the council of arcane research to be able to join the investigations as an apprentice scribe. Which was accepted as a temporary aid to the expedition. Now, with access to the libraries and study lounges of the faculty of arcane research, it would not be long until the boy became a rising star in the eyes of the teachers and his peers, for he was cunning and unrelenting in his pursuits. Despite being younger and not a full fledged arcane student, he’d win debates with senior classmates, and even teachers. He joined every single study project in a voracious attempt to master the Old Vatashian language before they could find his role fulfilled in the search of the ruins.
This proactive stance and sheer genius for the study of scrolls and learning of languages, quickly aroused the interest and greed of Hiraethei. The Head of Arcane Research was already an old man when Kaolin was a young boy, but his eye for talent was infallible. Noticing the young man’s ability and devotion to his studies, the headmaster himself requested a royal derogation for the young Kaolin to be permanently transferred to the faculty of arcane research in order to become one of his pupils.
With Hiraethei’s guidance and his newfound influence, Kaolin soon became known as the Black Vulture. A title given for his habit of undertaking every unfinished and unorganized project, he’d gather the scraps of unfinished studies and find new answers and new ways of tackling old problems. Students respected and feared Kaolin’s hunger for knowledge, and power, for any project could be victim to his schemes.
Accepting the young scholar’s help was sure to bring any research progress, but you’d soon realize results and glory would never come to you, but only add to the long list of achievements of The Vulture. This would be true even to his teacher and master, for The Vulture never thought of Hiraethei as anything more than a stepping stone.
At the age of 30, Kaolin was given a seat at the arcane research council, where he’d put in motion his true ambitions. In the many years he studied and helped search for those long forgotten Vatashian ruins, Kaolin discovered many patterns that showed that those ruins could be hiding much more than just the old tattered scrolls that his master was so infatuated with, something more dark and sinister, something that could unleash new knowledge and power, power that in his hands could eclipse even the Vatashians themselves.
The Age of Dusk
The dark room has no windows, no openings from which an onlooker could spectate what happens inside. Sparks fly as energy is channeled from the fingertips of a man into the inscriptions in a small pyramidal icon. The only sound one could hear is the deep breaths of the concentrated man, the ominous sound of the arcane flow and the echo of sweat drops that fall from the man’s temple. “— Gods be damned! Why won’t this thing open!?” Shouts the man dressed in dapper dark clothes from head to toe. He has a pitch-black hair, oiled and slicked back, coupled with a large pointy nose and big brown eyes, giving him the appearance of a bird of prey. His eyes have bags under them and are caved and deep, only adding to the moniker he quite enjoys, “The Vulture”. He is ready to continue his ritual, when he hears a knock on the heavy metal reinforced doors of his chambers.
“— Lord Kaolin, may I come in?” The voice is muffled by the doors, but Kaolin knows very well who that is.“— Come in, Paesadu. Is it time already?” Says Kaolin, as he hides his research under a heavy cover.
“— It’s already past Midday, sir. Everyone is waiting in the Chamber of Knowledge for the ceremony.” The young man dressed in brown vests hesitates. “— With all due respect, Sir. I expected my Lord to be more excited about becoming the Head of Arcane Research.”
“— All this talk about being the youngest head in history matters not to me. That old bag of bones Hiraethei had it coming. If it wasn’t me, someone would just take his place.” But Kaolin smiles as he imagines the many faces Hiraethei would be making when giving him the ceremonial scepter and garments of the Headmaster.
“— You are too humble, Lord Kaolin.” Says the assistant with a bowed head.
“— Enough of this talk. Let us hurry, I don’t want that old fossil dying before he can give me the scepter. As much as I’d enjoy prying those old claws open from his carcass to grab it.” Kaolin lets out a rough, crackling laugh as he walks his assistant out of the chamber. As he stops to close the doors, he glances over a small pedestal, with a picture of a young, round and happy boy. Near the frame lies a skull in a box made of glass. He lets himself smile a bit and says: “— Don’t be sad, brother. I won’t be away for long. I’ll come back soon to show you many interesting things. Things of this world and out of it.” The empty skull stares back at the man, through dark black openings, where eyes one day happened to be. Kaolin walks out of his chamber, locks it tight and feels the warmth of the suns’ heat. They burn his pale skin and immediately make him start to sweat under his robes.
“— These damned suns won’t ever stop mocking me.” It is, indeed, a very hot day.
Current Location
Species
Ethnicity
Honorary & Occupational Titles
Head of Arcane Research at the Royal University of Obafen
Age
30
Children
Gender
Male
Eyes
Hazel
Hair
Black
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Pale
Aligned Organization
Other Affiliations
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Comments
Author's Notes
Written by Johann Faust VI