Post by Yamadronis on Mar 25, 2013 3:24:53 GMT -5
Name: Gyun
Nicknames/Alias: None, he's a gall-dern Moomba. He's not going to be notorious. Although, on second thought, he may be and has, been referred to as "That fuzzy thing" by people who are unacquainted with the species.
FF: FF VIII
Age: 14
Height/build: Three foot , three inches in natural stature. Four foot when fully vertical.
DoB: 12 Before Compression.
Race: Moomba
Weapon: Exoskeleton / Natural Weapons
Level: 7
Strength:
Physical: 7
Magical: 7
Agility: 7
Special Skill(s):
Hyper Intelligence
Improved Verbal Articulation
Manual Dexterity
Scientific Knowledge of Technology
An almost instinctual affinity for Para-Magic
Emotional Resilience
Mechanical Aptitude
Extreme Flexibility
Animal Agility
Climbing
Magic: Gyun uses Para-Magic, and as such functions on magic stocks instead of a traditional reserve of magical energy. Gyun mostly uses magic for utility and junction purposes, and so far avoids using it offensively in combat. Junctioning is an artificial method of boosting a non-innately magical individual's capabilities, popularized in the military and SeeD. His stocks and Junctions as as follows.
22 Fire
22 Thunder
10 Float - Luck (He's even sure what this one does, but things seem to hit him less, so he likes it. )
10 Haste - Speed ( A clear choice, he enjoys it, it makes it easier to respond to things when they go wrong. It seems to enhance his perception and his reflexes. )
3 Reflect
9 Quake - HP
Summon: None at the current time. He may have a personal Guardian Force, but if so it has not awakened within him.
Appearance: Gyun is a Moomba, and as such he is roughly four feet tall, and covered from head to toe in luxurious fur. As a result of his resistance to entering this stage of his life, he exhibits some marked differences from other Moomba. The most visible difference between himself an others of his species is his coloration. His body retains swirls of the pale yellow from his previous stage in life and a deep crimson to contrast, as though a reflection of the natures refusing to properly mix. Gyun's legs have an exceptionally strong and resilient musculature.
His body is exceptionally flexible, and like most moomba highly springy and athletic. Gyun has retained the pride and joy of the Shumi, his paws are extremely dextrous, with more narrow digits. A thicker tail makes an effective counterbalance for his agile frame and helps him carry heavy equipment. His left eye can be difficult for him to open completely because of past trauma, and the fur grows awkwardly on his chest and right side, reminders of two sword strokes that almost put him in the grave.
Personality: Gyun is an energetic and diligent individual. He goes out of his way to be helpful as long as it doesn't cause him harm. Gyun is intelligent enough that he has learned to articulate ever so slightly. He still has difficulty understanding and using a very large number of human words, but he has been working at both speaking and reading. Math, however, came very easy for Gyun, particularly trigonometry which became essential in many of his designs.
Gyun has a love for shiny things and can be seen going out of his way to oil and polish many of the metals he comes across, whether they be machine or simply a handrail. Gyun loves little else more than getting dirty working with equipment, although on a balmy, gently warm summer's day, with a soft breeze and noon-day sun, he will indeed drop his work to laze about in the plush green and sunbathe. He is a very friendly creature, and he somewhat idolizes the ability of humans to adapt with little else but their ingenuity. Usually open to new friends, he is most often seen in either a library or a garage, though he also has a particular love for the inner machinations of Balamb Garden.
History:
Fourteen years ago Gyun was a member of the Shumi tribe. An artisan, he was referred to as 'Tinkerer'. But he discarded that title as it could not accurately describe his work. This is not terribly important. Let’s go further back. Much further. Many, many years before his metamorphosis, Gyun was an young and brillian Shumi. As a young Shumi, he was not quite like the other, peaceful members of his race. From an early age he was enthralled with engineering, mechanical, electrical, magical. Discontent with the bio-technology that surrounded him. He loved the martial arts both as a form of meditation, and the pursuit of arts and sciences in general. He was somewhat prideful of his excellence, and his people would say shamefully so, though he remained humble enough to treat his hands with the respect they deserved. In fact, one might say he respected them too much refusing to offer them to anyone.
So it was that from a young age he began expanding his consciousness and knowledge in these areas. It became his driving forces, and even as a child he was quickly learning to create simple constructs to do tasks for him, clear and clean his work spaces, wash his clothes, do simple repairs around his home and even regularly tend the gardens around his workshop.
This fascination only progressed in his late formative years, and he began researching outside cultures and their technology. He became so enthralled with the desire to design, build, and express his creativity through artistry that he began to develop and practice his own form or meditative exercise. He began to stretch the peaceful boundaries of his activities, incorporating clearly aggressive maneuvers into his art and creating early devices that could absorb and expel magical energy. Those around him grew discontent, as it was clear that he did not truly appreciate the Shumi way and was preparing to venture out on his own.
In his early adulthood, he left the village, having heard of three great things that he desperately wanted to see, perhaps for research purposes, or perhaps more personal purposes. So it was that he set out into the world with only a few of his personal effects and, of course some self defensive measures as well. The first item he sought was of a mystic pot that was fabled to allow one to increase their own capabilities by taking it from monsters in a manner strangely left unrecorded. He never found it.
The second thing he desired to see was a land whereupon the greatest of magic sprouted from the land itself. He was intent to research the land and the magic it held, and after years of searching he found the place, an isolated island far across the seas. Too his chagrin and much to his misfortune, he was only able to collect one or two samples of the magic as he soon found that not only did this land have the greatest magic, it had great beasts as well. He was quickly overwhelmed just a few hours into his stay and very much ill prepared to deal with such dreadful creatures, his journey cost him partial use of an arm.
He should have returned home then, his pride should have been damaged beyond repair, he should have been humble. But... he would not, could not return home until he had assuaged his curiosity. After months of recuperation and rehabilitation, he continued to search for the fabled pot. He still could not find it, and spent years traveling the world in search of it until he grew exhausted with the search, and the mere thought of continuing his search like this day after day made him weary. He abandoned this search, and returned to the east where he had once heard of a land where magic and technology were on the verge of being truly combined, where research would unlock a deeper understanding of magic, and allow anyone to use Hyne's power.
He traveled for it at once, and came upon it! It was a glorious place, although filled with unrest and morals he found distasteful. However, there he studied, and read. He watched the humans conduct their politics and build their weapons. They were strange, yet awe inspiring. His obsession was once again rekindled and he purchased research materials after working in the nation for a time. With them, he returned home.
What he found when he got there devastated him, and finally broke his pride His workshop, abandoned for years, had become home to another and all his work, everything he had created was gone. He moved to the outskirts of the underground village and set up without a building, beginning to research anew, fervently. Gradually he began to accept that his place was Shumi, and his life was Shumi. His fervor dying down into the gentle method of a true artisan once again. But, his passion burned all the more fiercely when his pride was lost. So intent was he that he began to make weapons in addition to his other projects, in an attempt to understand the thought process behind them, in the hope that it would help him with his other work.
His desires to create and learn, to bring joy, comfort, simplicity and utility to the world consumed him. His body could not take the strain of so much work, as the Tinkerer attempted to do the work of two pristine hands with less than two. He began working himself sick, and he became so fatigued that he could not finish his projects. Shortly after, it came the time in every Shumi's life that it was time to reach the next stage... He felt it and he began to change. He felt the most beloved and noble of metamorphoses approaching, the dream and desire of many Shumi. However, he was not ready. He refused, and he fought! So much he had done was lost now. Would be lost. He could not finish with such a body, such a mind. He had not finished, he could not even see the end of his designs, and his arts. Where the may lead him.
His refusal to truly change altered his metamorphosis. His humble nature did not consume him. he kept much of himself. Not all, by far, he did not remember who he used to be, but he was very intelligent. He still had.. almost hands, and a natural instinct for fighting and meditation. He had a comfortable body, allowing upright movement and carrying of large objects. Almost no memory of anything, but he remembered some things, yes. Things he desired, things he wanted to find, to know.
He set out to search for them, but the city he had once been to, he could no longer find, it was simply not there. He continued to travel, and boarded a ship for another place. That was his mistake. A truly terrible mistake. He was found, bound and caged and treated like cargo, shipped off and sold, treated like an animal, trained like a servant. It was terrible. He could not understand them and they would not understand them, these people. They were not nice things. They took him to a place where those who fought had high honors, a nation of soldiers.
He was taken to a camp, and trained, and trained, and trained again. Three years of this and it had broken him, his will was gone. He spent the next few years being transferred from master to master. Auctioned off, traded, sold or won, in bets. Paraded about, given hard labor that most of his kind could not do. It wore on him, but he could not escape, all he could do was endure this frightening and oppressing world in which he lives.
Eventually a high ranking Galbadian military official came into ownership of him. It is a time he would… Much rather not remember, but a part of him longs for a single connection he formed in this home. He was a manservant and a maidservant, a chore boy and a source of entertainment. Forced to do terribly hard work, but he was even fed relatively and allowed to sleep inside... He was given the distinguished position of being the ‘whipping boy’ for the officer’s son. Truly the boy’s only constant companion, and something of a friend, if not truly. There seemed to be some strange, mockery in the position... How could the boy learn if he was punished instead?
It got worse. After the man’s son and left in service the official grew cold. Where once he had felt and expressed genuine compassion for others, shown often toward his son and friends. Now there was only boredom. And after his son died in service, he became bitter, angry, and sought merely to pass the time with new amusement. ‘The beast’, Gyun, he became that source of amusement. Every day, difficult tasks, more than the last, harder than the last. Failure was met with punishment. When that grew dry, grew old, the officer decided it was time for a hunt. He was released onto the grounds to escape, but in his exhausted and abused shape. It was over quickly. The man was cold, and empty, he took no pleasure in any of it. It was just a way to pass the time, and to forget.
It was truly sad, and Gyun could hold no ill will for this man. This man trying to remove this from his life, to ignore the pain. This man had really loved his son, but the memory was painful for him, clearly the loss was something he couldn’t cope with. A swift and violent kick to the ribs silence any protests from the Moomba, and rendered him helpless. He rolled slightly along the ground. At the time he had thought little more than a wish for it to just end. He wanted his pain to stop and this man's pain to stop. It ended quite quickly. A two swings of a blade, across the front, to the side.
He could have easily been finished, and buried or worse. It could have ended there without any room for error, he could have been a pelt. The man did not ensure his death. He awoke in refuse; the wounds patched makeshift by the garbage around him. Weak and dizzy from loss of blood and pain, he stumbled off. to clean his wounds...
It was several months of fear, escaping that place. Always looking over his shoulder, always worried he would be captured again, but he wasn't. He was lucky enough to escape, to find freedom. Just a few months after the ordeal that he heard of a place from the people of the nation. A place where the people were… Soft. Weak. He knew what that could mean here, kindness. It took a long time to find a way to escape this land, an along the way he met a few people, some awful, some good. Eventually he reached a harbor stole a manual of boat operation, and left. Though he could not read he could puzzle out the diagrams, and clumsily he began to pilot a vehicle for the first time in both his lives. He headed east without provisions, and when he reached the land, this small land he was weak and weary. Someone from a harbor town took him in and nursed him to health. While he was there he learned that there was a mischievous and promising artist of fighting, a comic book superhero, that lived in the town, not now, but he had, he was off in the world doing great things, and Gyun wanted, one day, to meet him.
He was once again reminded that he once had dreams. He had desires. A flame was rekindled in him and as soon as he was able he left for what was called the Garden. A wonderful place, but it had moved. He returned to the harbor town, and there he thought about that cold man. He left him alive not because he was not worth it, but because it was painful for him to have the fuzzy creature there, because seeing him die, must have been like seeing the last part of his son die. While he holds no love for that man, he has a bittersweet fondness for the last bit of compassion that saved his life. That is what he tells himself that man. This creature's presence a reminder that his son would never return. A chance at life to assuage the man’s guilt, his pain. That’s why he was not struck down, it must have been.
He found it, one day, finally it had returned, but he was denied entry, again, again, again. Each day he would try to get in the gate, to become a part of this place until at last they took pity on him and let him in. He thanked them gratefully, creating somewhat of a shock, there are few Moomba who speak, and fewer still as far as he was told, that can form even a simple sentence. The moomba had spoken, and it truly was not a trained response. He briefly met with a few interested people before disappearing into the grounds and trying to keep to himself. For a time he has lived here. Tinkering, building, getting chased out of the garage on a weekly basis despite not being cleared to have access to it. It is amazing how he manages to go where he wants when he wants in the Garden, He doesn’t seem to be able to be locked out of anywhere on the main floor.
He’s tried to follow the curriculum, learning para magic by watching others, becoming sort of a pseudo-student. He has never attended a class, or a party, though he once tried to have lunch there. He once got between a boy and his bread, and he made a mental note after being nearly trampled not to do that again. He now usually eats what others don’t at the end of the meal period, and he is fine with that, it is good food. He is not on the student roster, but really. He’s a moomba. What, was the headmaster himself going to call him into the office?
He took to taking things that wouldn't be missed, secretively, and used them to construct his weapon, a fantastic exoskeleton that augments his already impressive natural prowess. He began fawning over it, polishing it, tuning it daily. Always folded up, no-one has seen what it looks like when expanded as it has yet to see any real use. He was fairly happy here yes, though he stopped trying to use the Training Center as nearly every time he enters he winds up in the infirmary, and he's gotten enough magic for his personal use anyway. He seemed to have developed a rather fond attraction to the SeeD uniforms as well.
However.... The last year has been a whirlwind. What he thought was his place in the world had turned, well, upside down. Everything changed, and only now is he beginning to come to terms with the fact that everything he thought he knew has rapidly become wildly different.
Nicknames/Alias: None, he's a gall-dern Moomba. He's not going to be notorious. Although, on second thought, he may be and has, been referred to as "That fuzzy thing" by people who are unacquainted with the species.
FF: FF VIII
Age: 14
Height/build: Three foot , three inches in natural stature. Four foot when fully vertical.
DoB: 12 Before Compression.
Race: Moomba
Weapon: Exoskeleton / Natural Weapons
Level: 7
Strength:
Physical: 7
Magical: 7
Agility: 7
Special Skill(s):
Hyper Intelligence
Improved Verbal Articulation
Manual Dexterity
Scientific Knowledge of Technology
An almost instinctual affinity for Para-Magic
Emotional Resilience
Mechanical Aptitude
Extreme Flexibility
Animal Agility
Climbing
Magic: Gyun uses Para-Magic, and as such functions on magic stocks instead of a traditional reserve of magical energy. Gyun mostly uses magic for utility and junction purposes, and so far avoids using it offensively in combat. Junctioning is an artificial method of boosting a non-innately magical individual's capabilities, popularized in the military and SeeD. His stocks and Junctions as as follows.
22 Fire
22 Thunder
10 Float - Luck (He's even sure what this one does, but things seem to hit him less, so he likes it. )
10 Haste - Speed ( A clear choice, he enjoys it, it makes it easier to respond to things when they go wrong. It seems to enhance his perception and his reflexes. )
3 Reflect
9 Quake - HP
Summon: None at the current time. He may have a personal Guardian Force, but if so it has not awakened within him.
Appearance: Gyun is a Moomba, and as such he is roughly four feet tall, and covered from head to toe in luxurious fur. As a result of his resistance to entering this stage of his life, he exhibits some marked differences from other Moomba. The most visible difference between himself an others of his species is his coloration. His body retains swirls of the pale yellow from his previous stage in life and a deep crimson to contrast, as though a reflection of the natures refusing to properly mix. Gyun's legs have an exceptionally strong and resilient musculature.
His body is exceptionally flexible, and like most moomba highly springy and athletic. Gyun has retained the pride and joy of the Shumi, his paws are extremely dextrous, with more narrow digits. A thicker tail makes an effective counterbalance for his agile frame and helps him carry heavy equipment. His left eye can be difficult for him to open completely because of past trauma, and the fur grows awkwardly on his chest and right side, reminders of two sword strokes that almost put him in the grave.
Personality: Gyun is an energetic and diligent individual. He goes out of his way to be helpful as long as it doesn't cause him harm. Gyun is intelligent enough that he has learned to articulate ever so slightly. He still has difficulty understanding and using a very large number of human words, but he has been working at both speaking and reading. Math, however, came very easy for Gyun, particularly trigonometry which became essential in many of his designs.
Gyun has a love for shiny things and can be seen going out of his way to oil and polish many of the metals he comes across, whether they be machine or simply a handrail. Gyun loves little else more than getting dirty working with equipment, although on a balmy, gently warm summer's day, with a soft breeze and noon-day sun, he will indeed drop his work to laze about in the plush green and sunbathe. He is a very friendly creature, and he somewhat idolizes the ability of humans to adapt with little else but their ingenuity. Usually open to new friends, he is most often seen in either a library or a garage, though he also has a particular love for the inner machinations of Balamb Garden.
History:
Fourteen years ago Gyun was a member of the Shumi tribe. An artisan, he was referred to as 'Tinkerer'. But he discarded that title as it could not accurately describe his work. This is not terribly important. Let’s go further back. Much further. Many, many years before his metamorphosis, Gyun was an young and brillian Shumi. As a young Shumi, he was not quite like the other, peaceful members of his race. From an early age he was enthralled with engineering, mechanical, electrical, magical. Discontent with the bio-technology that surrounded him. He loved the martial arts both as a form of meditation, and the pursuit of arts and sciences in general. He was somewhat prideful of his excellence, and his people would say shamefully so, though he remained humble enough to treat his hands with the respect they deserved. In fact, one might say he respected them too much refusing to offer them to anyone.
So it was that from a young age he began expanding his consciousness and knowledge in these areas. It became his driving forces, and even as a child he was quickly learning to create simple constructs to do tasks for him, clear and clean his work spaces, wash his clothes, do simple repairs around his home and even regularly tend the gardens around his workshop.
This fascination only progressed in his late formative years, and he began researching outside cultures and their technology. He became so enthralled with the desire to design, build, and express his creativity through artistry that he began to develop and practice his own form or meditative exercise. He began to stretch the peaceful boundaries of his activities, incorporating clearly aggressive maneuvers into his art and creating early devices that could absorb and expel magical energy. Those around him grew discontent, as it was clear that he did not truly appreciate the Shumi way and was preparing to venture out on his own.
In his early adulthood, he left the village, having heard of three great things that he desperately wanted to see, perhaps for research purposes, or perhaps more personal purposes. So it was that he set out into the world with only a few of his personal effects and, of course some self defensive measures as well. The first item he sought was of a mystic pot that was fabled to allow one to increase their own capabilities by taking it from monsters in a manner strangely left unrecorded. He never found it.
The second thing he desired to see was a land whereupon the greatest of magic sprouted from the land itself. He was intent to research the land and the magic it held, and after years of searching he found the place, an isolated island far across the seas. Too his chagrin and much to his misfortune, he was only able to collect one or two samples of the magic as he soon found that not only did this land have the greatest magic, it had great beasts as well. He was quickly overwhelmed just a few hours into his stay and very much ill prepared to deal with such dreadful creatures, his journey cost him partial use of an arm.
He should have returned home then, his pride should have been damaged beyond repair, he should have been humble. But... he would not, could not return home until he had assuaged his curiosity. After months of recuperation and rehabilitation, he continued to search for the fabled pot. He still could not find it, and spent years traveling the world in search of it until he grew exhausted with the search, and the mere thought of continuing his search like this day after day made him weary. He abandoned this search, and returned to the east where he had once heard of a land where magic and technology were on the verge of being truly combined, where research would unlock a deeper understanding of magic, and allow anyone to use Hyne's power.
He traveled for it at once, and came upon it! It was a glorious place, although filled with unrest and morals he found distasteful. However, there he studied, and read. He watched the humans conduct their politics and build their weapons. They were strange, yet awe inspiring. His obsession was once again rekindled and he purchased research materials after working in the nation for a time. With them, he returned home.
What he found when he got there devastated him, and finally broke his pride His workshop, abandoned for years, had become home to another and all his work, everything he had created was gone. He moved to the outskirts of the underground village and set up without a building, beginning to research anew, fervently. Gradually he began to accept that his place was Shumi, and his life was Shumi. His fervor dying down into the gentle method of a true artisan once again. But, his passion burned all the more fiercely when his pride was lost. So intent was he that he began to make weapons in addition to his other projects, in an attempt to understand the thought process behind them, in the hope that it would help him with his other work.
His desires to create and learn, to bring joy, comfort, simplicity and utility to the world consumed him. His body could not take the strain of so much work, as the Tinkerer attempted to do the work of two pristine hands with less than two. He began working himself sick, and he became so fatigued that he could not finish his projects. Shortly after, it came the time in every Shumi's life that it was time to reach the next stage... He felt it and he began to change. He felt the most beloved and noble of metamorphoses approaching, the dream and desire of many Shumi. However, he was not ready. He refused, and he fought! So much he had done was lost now. Would be lost. He could not finish with such a body, such a mind. He had not finished, he could not even see the end of his designs, and his arts. Where the may lead him.
His refusal to truly change altered his metamorphosis. His humble nature did not consume him. he kept much of himself. Not all, by far, he did not remember who he used to be, but he was very intelligent. He still had.. almost hands, and a natural instinct for fighting and meditation. He had a comfortable body, allowing upright movement and carrying of large objects. Almost no memory of anything, but he remembered some things, yes. Things he desired, things he wanted to find, to know.
He set out to search for them, but the city he had once been to, he could no longer find, it was simply not there. He continued to travel, and boarded a ship for another place. That was his mistake. A truly terrible mistake. He was found, bound and caged and treated like cargo, shipped off and sold, treated like an animal, trained like a servant. It was terrible. He could not understand them and they would not understand them, these people. They were not nice things. They took him to a place where those who fought had high honors, a nation of soldiers.
He was taken to a camp, and trained, and trained, and trained again. Three years of this and it had broken him, his will was gone. He spent the next few years being transferred from master to master. Auctioned off, traded, sold or won, in bets. Paraded about, given hard labor that most of his kind could not do. It wore on him, but he could not escape, all he could do was endure this frightening and oppressing world in which he lives.
Eventually a high ranking Galbadian military official came into ownership of him. It is a time he would… Much rather not remember, but a part of him longs for a single connection he formed in this home. He was a manservant and a maidservant, a chore boy and a source of entertainment. Forced to do terribly hard work, but he was even fed relatively and allowed to sleep inside... He was given the distinguished position of being the ‘whipping boy’ for the officer’s son. Truly the boy’s only constant companion, and something of a friend, if not truly. There seemed to be some strange, mockery in the position... How could the boy learn if he was punished instead?
It got worse. After the man’s son and left in service the official grew cold. Where once he had felt and expressed genuine compassion for others, shown often toward his son and friends. Now there was only boredom. And after his son died in service, he became bitter, angry, and sought merely to pass the time with new amusement. ‘The beast’, Gyun, he became that source of amusement. Every day, difficult tasks, more than the last, harder than the last. Failure was met with punishment. When that grew dry, grew old, the officer decided it was time for a hunt. He was released onto the grounds to escape, but in his exhausted and abused shape. It was over quickly. The man was cold, and empty, he took no pleasure in any of it. It was just a way to pass the time, and to forget.
It was truly sad, and Gyun could hold no ill will for this man. This man trying to remove this from his life, to ignore the pain. This man had really loved his son, but the memory was painful for him, clearly the loss was something he couldn’t cope with. A swift and violent kick to the ribs silence any protests from the Moomba, and rendered him helpless. He rolled slightly along the ground. At the time he had thought little more than a wish for it to just end. He wanted his pain to stop and this man's pain to stop. It ended quite quickly. A two swings of a blade, across the front, to the side.
He could have easily been finished, and buried or worse. It could have ended there without any room for error, he could have been a pelt. The man did not ensure his death. He awoke in refuse; the wounds patched makeshift by the garbage around him. Weak and dizzy from loss of blood and pain, he stumbled off. to clean his wounds...
It was several months of fear, escaping that place. Always looking over his shoulder, always worried he would be captured again, but he wasn't. He was lucky enough to escape, to find freedom. Just a few months after the ordeal that he heard of a place from the people of the nation. A place where the people were… Soft. Weak. He knew what that could mean here, kindness. It took a long time to find a way to escape this land, an along the way he met a few people, some awful, some good. Eventually he reached a harbor stole a manual of boat operation, and left. Though he could not read he could puzzle out the diagrams, and clumsily he began to pilot a vehicle for the first time in both his lives. He headed east without provisions, and when he reached the land, this small land he was weak and weary. Someone from a harbor town took him in and nursed him to health. While he was there he learned that there was a mischievous and promising artist of fighting, a comic book superhero, that lived in the town, not now, but he had, he was off in the world doing great things, and Gyun wanted, one day, to meet him.
He was once again reminded that he once had dreams. He had desires. A flame was rekindled in him and as soon as he was able he left for what was called the Garden. A wonderful place, but it had moved. He returned to the harbor town, and there he thought about that cold man. He left him alive not because he was not worth it, but because it was painful for him to have the fuzzy creature there, because seeing him die, must have been like seeing the last part of his son die. While he holds no love for that man, he has a bittersweet fondness for the last bit of compassion that saved his life. That is what he tells himself that man. This creature's presence a reminder that his son would never return. A chance at life to assuage the man’s guilt, his pain. That’s why he was not struck down, it must have been.
He found it, one day, finally it had returned, but he was denied entry, again, again, again. Each day he would try to get in the gate, to become a part of this place until at last they took pity on him and let him in. He thanked them gratefully, creating somewhat of a shock, there are few Moomba who speak, and fewer still as far as he was told, that can form even a simple sentence. The moomba had spoken, and it truly was not a trained response. He briefly met with a few interested people before disappearing into the grounds and trying to keep to himself. For a time he has lived here. Tinkering, building, getting chased out of the garage on a weekly basis despite not being cleared to have access to it. It is amazing how he manages to go where he wants when he wants in the Garden, He doesn’t seem to be able to be locked out of anywhere on the main floor.
He’s tried to follow the curriculum, learning para magic by watching others, becoming sort of a pseudo-student. He has never attended a class, or a party, though he once tried to have lunch there. He once got between a boy and his bread, and he made a mental note after being nearly trampled not to do that again. He now usually eats what others don’t at the end of the meal period, and he is fine with that, it is good food. He is not on the student roster, but really. He’s a moomba. What, was the headmaster himself going to call him into the office?
He took to taking things that wouldn't be missed, secretively, and used them to construct his weapon, a fantastic exoskeleton that augments his already impressive natural prowess. He began fawning over it, polishing it, tuning it daily. Always folded up, no-one has seen what it looks like when expanded as it has yet to see any real use. He was fairly happy here yes, though he stopped trying to use the Training Center as nearly every time he enters he winds up in the infirmary, and he's gotten enough magic for his personal use anyway. He seemed to have developed a rather fond attraction to the SeeD uniforms as well.
However.... The last year has been a whirlwind. What he thought was his place in the world had turned, well, upside down. Everything changed, and only now is he beginning to come to terms with the fact that everything he thought he knew has rapidly become wildly different.