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User:Gorran

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Gorran Zhuangi

Born: Dua, Harvestor 8, 3e AC 2519

Died: 2562 during the Great Exodus before the 2nd Great Swarming.

Parents: Zhao Zhuangi (father) and Kai-Yao Seng (mother)

Positions held: Awakened of the Zoraï, Shizu of Guardians of Zora


It was the Year of the Goo, 2519, when I was born in early Harvestor. My parents and their companions were traveling through Windy Gate toward the Scorched Corridor as part of a merchant caravan. The plan was to press on to Pyr and winter there. The caravan had camped near The Fallen Tree when disaster struck: One of the caravan's guards was spotted by a pack of kirosta and instead of calling out for help, he ran back to the caravan with the kirosta pack following.

Most of the caravan died that night, father among them. Mother was badly injured but survived. Two of the other survivors, Gorius Cegrips and Anichi Antobi, carried mother to safety. Gorius, Gor as I've always called him, suggested that they should make for the Watchers' camp in the Flaming Forest. The Lyseus clan were suppliers there and Gor was friendly with them. Ichi—everyone called him Ichi but mother, he said she always called him Ani—pointed out that the Watchers were none too friendly with Matis. So it was that they pressed on to the safety of the Water Breakers' camp near Ovlovak's Oasis. It was here that I was born. Out of gratitude and devotion to Gorius and Anichi, mother named me in their honor. Ichi always teased me saying that I should be named Gorrani, which he often called me.

Two days after I was born, mother died. Unknown to Gor or Ichi, her wounds were poisoned by the kirosta. Gor and Ichi kept me with them for years. They were really the only family I knew growing up. We were always on the move and while we visited most of the tribes of Atys, we rarely stopped at any of the cities or towns and we never visited Yrkanis. During our travels, I heard rumors of a camp of Zoraï training to fight the kitin. I wanted nothing more than to avenge the deaths of my parents. With the blessings of Gor and Ichi, I went in search of this camp.

What I found was not a camp but five small villages full of Zoraï. It was there that I learned my first lessons and there that I met a life long friend, Yakapo. We both lived in Koï Zun. I enjoyed standing on a ridge there, listening to the baying of the weeny ragus. Yakapo always found this to be funny and nicknamed me Ragus. We had many adventures together and I attained the title, Kami Champion.

I was proud of that title, too proud I suppose as there came a day when the Kami required of me a great sacrifice. I had to give up all my titles, all my skills and become a humble refugee. But I had trained so hard, I argued. I could walk the bark without fear of kitin or beast or bandit. I swung my Zo'Matchata with skill and in furthering the Kami cause. The Kami standing over me, however, was resolute. I would renounce all I had gained and go as a refugee to a place named Silan or I would join my parents in death. I agreed to the Kami's demand. The Kami told me a number of things and then I found myself, Lam in hand, standing before Chiang the Strong.

Chiang looked at me and then he asked my name. I hesitated. The spells I had once known were gone. The Lam, which should have felt simply like an extension of my arm, instead felt awkward in my hand. Titles and honor which were once mine had all been stripped away. I was no different than the refugees standing around me. I touched my mask, that at least was the same. Thinking I could not speak the common tongue, Chiang asked "Hojia lu?" I looked at him and said simply, "I am Gorran."